Liam Hemsworth: How to mend your achy breaky heart
We haven't met, but given we're both Australian that pretty much makes us mates, so put down your surfboard, unzip that wetsuit (for comfort, of course!) and grab yourself a kombucha because I've got some words of wisdom for you.
Breakups suck. They're worse than the M1 on a Friday afternoon; building Ikea furniture and waiting in line to order an acai bowl in Byron Bay on a Saturday morning.
And that's without adding international fame, a snap-happy ex and a posse of paparazzi armed with telescopic lenses to the mix.
You probably can't even mope around Wategos in your oldest tracksuit pants and ripped T-shirt, or do a quick stalk of her Instagram stories while waiting to pay for your vegan-friendly ice cream because you're going to end up on the cover of People magazine under the headline 'Achy, breaky heart'.
I know a little of how you feel because 12 months ago, I was where you are and by all accounts (mostly my own) you're a much cooler, nicer and sexier person than I am.
I mean, 12 months ago I wasn't internationally known, the younger sibling of the World's Sexiest Man or married to one of the world's biggest pop stars. Also, my house hadn't burnt down and I didn't have photographers stalking my every move.
In fact, I'm still none of those things, but I had just been through a breakup, which is why I can tell you that no matter what the headlines and Instagram captions say, you'll be okay.
My mum told me that after my split and now I'm passing it on to you.
And I know it's true because this time last year, I was elbow deep in a tub of ice-cream while singing Whitesnake's Here I Go Again and now I'm penning a letter to you, the World's Sexiest Vegan.
Once the shock wore off and my lactose intolerance made it impossible to eat any more ice cream, I set about ridding myself of any feelings I had for my ex through song.
That's right, you need to sing it out. Loud and proud.
You can even do it out in the ocean, with only the whales and your brother to pass judgment (plus you can pass off any tears off as seawater).
Now, there are hundreds of playlists to choose from if you want to wallow in sadness, but they are not the songs I'm talking about (as much as I not-so-secretly love Rick Astley, Foreigner, Air Supply and Adele).
But I suggest you focus on the 'ass-kicking, bass-thumping, crank up the volume, I'm better without you because you didn't believe in traditional marriage and you've now ruined Lake Como for me' kind of songs.
Although perhaps you should give Wrecking Ball a miss. In fact, just remove the whole Miley Cyrus catalogue from your phone. Hannah Montana be damned.
And when you're feeling like you're ready to dip your toe back in the dating game, keep an eye out for me. I'll be the one sitting on a surfboard singing Abba's Take A Chance On Me.