You disgust me. I remember looking at you, blinded by love and lust, and now I find you to be revolting.
Every word you say makes those wispy hairs on the back of my neck stand up. When you act like a condescending asshole, I have to clench my fists to the point that my fingernails nearly pierce the skin. Each time you contradict me, simply for the purpose of showing off how intelligent (and pigheaded, in my opinion) you are, it takes every ounce of my self control to not scream at you to just, for one, shut the fuck up.
I would give my firstborn to never have to see you again. I would LOVE to delete you from my phone, from facebook, too. But, as you’ve unnecessarily repeated to me, “we have to be friends, for the sake of our friends.”
But, the fact of the matter is that I really don’t like the man you’ve become. Your existence makes me want to vomit repeatedly. You really are fucked up in the head now, aren’t you?
Do you hear some of the things that come out of your mouth? Do you think those jokes about the size of your penis are funny? Because, I’ve seen it, remember? I sucked on it a couple of times. Hell, I even let it steal my virginity. And, unless I’m mistaken-which I can assure you I am not-it’s not that big, I promise. I could be a douchebag and discredit your complacent claims. But, unlike you, I’m not willing to make YOU uncomfortable by making repeated crass sex jokes.
I could let all of our friends know how bad you were at sex. I could let them know that you used to make these moaning noises when we kissed that made me giggle. I could tell them that you almost put it in the wrong hole…three fucking times. I could let them all know that it took you over three minutes to unhook my bra…in broad daylight. I could tell them that I faked EVERY SINGLE ORGASM because I wanted to get it over with. But, you know, maybe there’s a part of me that feels bad for you and won’t stoop that low.
I wonder if you were slipping me tranquilizers the entire time we dated or if you’ve really changed so drastically. I remember you used to look at me like I was the most beautiful person in the world. Your eyes are so filled with hatred and cynicism now. You used to make me strive to be a better person, but now all you make me want to do is shoot myself in the head.
Fuck you for begging me not to break up with you, because you wanted to fix our relationship, then breaking my heart 4 days later. Fuck you for telling me I had to get an abortion, rather than comforting me when I thought I was pregnant with your spawn. Fuck you for telling me that you hated my dogs. Fuck you for telling me that my mother was an idiot. Fuck you for pretending you loved me when you truly didn’t.
The truth is that, no, I don’t think we can be friends, not even 3 months later. Not because I still love you, or because I want you back, or even because I’m still too upset over the break up. Don’t flatter yourself, bud.
I don’t think we can be friends because, as a person, you disgust me. You may be smart, but your good points end there. Maybe one day we can be friends, when I learn to tolerate large quantities of bullshit. But, now? Mmm. Not so much. Thanks for the offer, though.
And the worst part? You truly will never find another girlfriend who could come to love your social awkwardness like I once did. All conceit aside, I am the best girlfriend that you will have until you iron out those kinks in your personality. You don’t realize it now, but one day, even if it’s when you’re 85 and wrinkly, I guarantee you will look back at me and sigh with regret.
I love the old you. Can you tell me where he’s gone? Because this version of you fucking sucks.