There are people out in this world who are annoying at best and make one sick to the stomach at worst.
My ex-boyfriend (of like 5 boyfriends ago) is a sick to the stomach type.
We did not part on good terms. As a matter of fact, we parted on I-have-a-restraining-order-against-you terms. He thought it was okay to lay a hand on me in a manner basically unacceptable to our society. He found out that he was wrong. Even in rage, I am smart, savvy and cunning. Do not mess with me because I will toy with your emotions. I will cry and curl up on the couch after you've been physically violent to me and as soon as you are within reach because you start to feel bad, I will blast you in the face with my fist as hard as I possibly can.
You can pick me up and body slam me onto the carpeted floor, but when your dumb ass lands on top of me, it will be you with the broken ribs.
You are a sad, sad piece of work. I chalk you up to a life experience. One that I will never repeat because I've been there and done that. Every boyfriend after you has voluntarily told me that they would never lay a hand on me. Not because they know it's the right thing but because they fear that dark spot they see in my eye. The one that says your first blow had better kill me because if it does not, consider yourself dead.
It has been over ten years…A DECADE…since this all went down. Somehow I knew that I should have trusted my first instinct of just driving away the moment I saw you, but I didn't.
You are insanely materialistic. You wear makeup. Daily. Like won't leave the house without it. (Hello, warning bell.) You dye your hair. Religiously. Sure your mom was a hairdresser, may she rest in peace, but that doesn't mean that you should have been using her services quite so often. Oh, and it's 2008 so you might want to let the mullet go now. And stop feathering the top with your curling brush. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit just remembering that I had anything to do with you.
You treat your vehicle better than I ever saw you treat any human. I am certain that you once made me remove my shoes to get in your truck.
One would think that at the tender age of, what are you now, nearly 40? At least 37. That you might have matured a bit. No, you haven't.
There is a reason that I blocked all forms of communication from you. It's because you are a self-centered ass munch. And I honestly do not understand how you get past the blocks. But last night, as I sat trying to write a paper, there you were, popped up on my instant messenger.
Now, could I have just ignored you? Yes. But the fact of the matter is that you know people and you know people that know people and I never know just how close to the edge you are. So I try to be polite. I thought that you were trying to be polite as well. You started off great, but it went seriously downhill from there, showing me that some things never change.
Really? I don't care what you're driving. It's just a car. I didn't care when we were dating and I certainly don't care now. I'm happy that your new wife bought it for you. I'm happy that she's an ER doc. I'm sad that, in 2008, she is still encountering racist remarks as a doctor. But hey, it's southwestern PA and it's not the most open-minded area around. You have the nerve to say that she makes over $300K a year so that makes it worth it. All I can say to you is that she must love her job because she put in all those hours to become a doctor and THAT'S what makes it worth it.
Yeah, it's true. I ruined you for white women (not that they want you either). You haven't dated anyone white since we broke up. Not that color lines matter, but I worry that you seek out black women just to say that it's what you do.
I'm happy that your restaurant is doing well. You need hobbies because idle hands are your own workshop. It's great that your wife is in a position to allow you to not work. You are so shallow that you love this fact. I mention that my fiance (thanks for the congrats, by the way…it isn't as though 3 minutes earlier I did not congratulate you on your wedding) would NEVER live off of my earnings nor would I take your suggestion of living off of his. You again showed your true colors with your resonse of "Oh hell, I would. Why do you think I married a doctor?" I'm sure she'd be so happy to hear that.
You did manage to give me a few pieces of information that I actually gave a shit about before I told you in a polite manner that I'd had enough of your stupidity. A mutual friend lost his life in a robbery gone bad. That was very sad. Although I question your motives for bringing it up. Just so you could tell me that you carry a gun in your car and that would never happen to you. That you carry your gun everywhere. I wonder if it's the same gun you claim I nearly shot you with. That it's another reason you won't vote for Obama. If I could slap you through the internet I would have.
I've once again blocked your screen name and I hope that I can go another 5 or so peaceful years without you popping into my life. You showing up on my monitor is probably what I get for googling your name to see if you were dead yet. Obviously, not yet, but if karma has her way, it won't be long now. You'll probably want to be buried in your ML. (I had to look it up to see what it was, that's how much I give a shit about cars.)
I hope that your wife knows what she really got herself into. I think Tupac said "I hope your wife know she got a playa for life and that's no bullshittin." Or wannabe playa. Living high off his wife's salary and not because you can't work or you can't find a job or you're uneducated, but just because you were, are and always will be a spoiled brat. Please don't reproduce. As a matter of fact,
GO TO HELL AND STAY THERE. And lose my contact information, please.
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