Bad boys come in all shapes and sizes, often not befitting the James Dean stereotype of smouldering sex appeal. My first was from a chaotic background: brought up in foster care, a school dropout by 14, eyes the colour of caramel latte. But being a bad boy isn't about being from the wrong side of the tracks. My most recent mistake took the form of a middle-class technology software partner who wore J Crew. He didn't have much in common with my first bad boy at all, except for one thing: the way they treated me. And my God, it felt just as painful at 24 as it did at 14.