Well fuck. I can’t fucking believe it. You know, when we were dating I actually cared about you, though I don’t think you ever believed it. I never lied when I said I love you, but I’m pretty sure you did. Scratch that, I know you did at the end of it. You decided you didn’t love me anymore because your cunt of a cousin talked you out of our relationship. She wanted someone to go drinking with, where the two of you could go hook up with random douchebags and not feel guilty about it at all. That was the end, you said I didn’t make you happy anymore, but couldn’t say it and look me in the eye. Shit, you didn’t even say it. You handed me a note for me to read when you drove me to work. I was happy, you were happy, but apparently too immature to want it to last.
What is this I hear now, from a mutual friend? You’re unhappy with the way your life is? You feel you’ve made some bad decisions and want to change? You’re looking for someone like me? I had to get him to repeat that last part, because I couldn’t fucking believe it. You were wondering where all the guys like me were hiding. You know where I am? Where all the guys like me are? In the arms of someone who won’t casually toss us aside when someone tells you to. Good luck with the rest of your life. You’ll need it.