• Well… fuck

    by  • April 11, 2011 • Advice, Anger, Closure • 0 Comments

    Dear You-Know-Who-You-Are,

    As a matter of fact, I think I DO have somethin’ to say to you! Unfortunately for me, I don’t know what that ‘something’ actually is. ‘What the Hell’ is all that comes to mind when I try to verbalize it. Usually followed by the fantasy of giving you a bloody nose or slamming your head against the counter- but that’s not the point. The point is:

    A) I am so FUCKING DISGUSTED by your embarrassingly public drinking problem. There is nothing attractive about your 20-30 pound beer gut. There is nothing charming about your 9PM belligerence. And there is definitely NOTHING sexy about an overweight, sloppy, Mickey’s scented Mexican dragging me onto a couch and trying to shove his tongue in my mouth and his sweaty hands up my shirt.

    B) You should be ashamed of yourself for never taking responsibility for what you do. If you can’t control yourself when you drink too much, then maybe you should learn how to apologize. It’s easy, dumbshit.
    You can try starting with:
    -The girl you nearly pushed down the stairs.
    -The chick you left bruises on, threatened to beat the shit out of, and, in the same night, broke her front windshield.
    -YOUR FUCKING MOM.
    And all those other people who are still putting up with your bullshit.

    C) I can’t stand how you treat your friends like shit whenever they try to tell you about something that’s bothering them. Just because you pile up resentments doesn’t mean everyone else has to, too.

    D) I hated that I was dumb enough to have sex with you after we were drinking and railing lines with your friends. I hated the fact that I got pregnant and you tried denying it, then you begged me to keep it, then you left. For the record, I found a very loving, friendly, responsible adoptive family for our child.

    If I ever run into you anywhere, I’m still not sure what I would say. I usually let my middle finger do the talking when I run out of words like this, and if my finger could literally speak it would probably tell you that I wish you stayed away from me the night we met, that we had some fun but i’m glad you’re gone, that I’m not holding any grudges but I am very ready to STOMP. THE. SHIT. out of you if you try anything dumb. It would also probably tell you that I’m inclined to help myself to your shoes, watch, and the contents of your wallet afterwards as compensation for the time I wasted with you. Butttt uhhhhh you know, no hard feelings or nothin.. :]

    -Me

    PS- your tattoos are janky as shit

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