Love, you syphlitic man-whore

The BBQ Pit
1

Love-- if you will-- I have a few words for you. Some of them will be choice.

Okay, I’ll admit, when I first met your crusty ass, I was intrigued. I had heard so much about you, it only seemed right that I got to know you myself.

And get to know you I did.

The first time you passed through my neck of the woods, we hit it off right away. Wam, bam, right out of the gate. Things were great. You fucking whore.

We were buddies for a while. Like peas and carrots. Compadres. Totally inseperable. Then, from out of no where you say ‘Adios, muchacho, I gotta go.’

You turd.

So, I pick myself up, and re-adjust my life, minus Love’s presence. Of course I tell myself I don’t need Love’s shit. Fuck Love. I was doing just fine before that bloody dildo polkaed into my life, and I’ll do just fine without Love fucking things up again.

Love didn’t come a-calling for a good 4 years. And I didn’t bother calling that shit-eatin’ mo-fo either.

Then, about three years ago, I got a feeling that jagoff turd monkey was back in these parts. So I made every effort to steer clear of him. Just hearing his name nausiated me.

But, then he starts calling and dropping me little notes. And once Love starts talking about the old days, how much fun he and I had together…well, I just forget about how easily distracted he can get, how unreliable he is, and how “delicate” his motherfucking “feelings” are.

See, this is what Love does: he comes between two very good friends and makes them hold hands; he sweet talks you into believing you’re a something special and-- worse than that-- he talks you into believing somebody else thinks you’re something special; he starts talking about the future, saying, “Where do you want to go on vacation next summer?” and “So what names do you like for boys?” His mere presence makes you feel secure and happy; he doesn’t even have to talk. That fucking worm.

Then right after you resign yourselfself to the fact that you misjudged Love, and that he’s not really such a bad guy-- he’s totally made you forget about any ugliness he caused before-- he walks out the door yet again.

But it’s not that fucking simple. Hell, if he just walked out, I could deal with that. No, Love, that fucking motherfucker, takes a butterknife, slices your belly open and deficates on your entrails. Then, he meatballs you and plucks out a few pubes just for laughs. He pours hot salty wax in your eyes for lubrication before he skull-fucks the shit out of you. Then he kicks you in the head with a steel-toed boot covered in moldy cheese and dog shit.

But forget all that. The walking out I can take. The butterknife, the poop, the pube-plucking, skull-fucking, the jackboot to the chin-- whatever. Bring it on.

Love, what I can’t take are the constant reminders of her. You’re trying to make me cry, you fucking asshole, and I DON’T CRY.

And, Love, to make matters worse: when you came into my life this time around, you involved a four-year-old girl. You helped me and this little girl get to know each other. We had fun together. I’ve ended up spending more time with her over the past two-and-a-half years than I have with many of my friends. As I have no other family around me, I considered this little girl and her mother to be my family. Now just how in the fuck am I supposed to tell her I won’t be coming around to see her anymore? Goddamit, I hate you, you fucking piece of shit.

You are a pig-fucking, shit-stained, turtle-waxing maggot, Love.

I hate your stinking, rotting guts. I cannot find the words to adequately describe my hatred toward you. I absolutely loathe you.

Please don’t go. :frowning:

Happy

2

OMH, Happy. I’m so sorry.

That was a beautiful OP.

3

Great OP, Happy. Sorry things suck right now. I am truly sending some good vibes your way, to hope you will be feeling better soon.

4

My sympathies.

He “meatballed” you? Can I get an explanation for that or doesn’t it mean anything?

5

Damn, that hits home on so many levels. Esp that last line.

Damn good OP, and left me with not being able to think of a witty retort. That’s a first

6

lol Love screws you around, it reminds me of that whirlly thing in the faiground, you know where ya strapped to the side…constantly being flung from side to side, urgh I know how you feel, I don’t want love but somehow, it keeps coming after me, like its trying to get me to do or say something…

7

fairground*

8

The OP is even better if read aloud in a bad French accent.

“Love, eef you will, I have ze few words with you. Some of them, they will be choice.” <gestures emphatically with an unfiltered cigarette>

Seriously, though, that sucks. I hope things improve for you. Good luck.

9

((Happy Lendervedder)) I’m so sorry. :frowning:

I’ll pray that you have the strength to pull through. I’ll pray for the little girl and her mom too.

I’ve been where you are, done that, bought the t-shirt. It’s still around here somewhere, faded, moldy, and torn.

10

Hugs to ya, but also a word in your ear… If Love is that much of a bastard, you don’t say ‘please don’t go’, you say ‘here, I hope you like the taste of the toe of my shoe covered in your teeth’.
I know, I know, heart wants what it wants, but seriously, if this one pulled out of you this much venom… Run, don’t walk, okay? Don’t wanna see this shit pulled on any other doper -once-, not to mention multiple times. Not while I’m still reading this board.

11

Either I’m PMSing, or that was a fucking hell of an OP. I cackled until the last line, and then I nearly burst into tears.

Hang in there, Happy. It will be okay–one way or the other.

12

Not to take joy in your misery or anything, but this part made me laugh.

13

Thanks for all the positive vibes, and don’t feel bad about finding amusement in the OP. If I had wanted to go for the whole “Woe is me” thing, I’d’ve posted this in MPSIMS. This was just my place to get it all out, so I can continue putting on my game face IRL.

I even chuckled when I wrote the part about getting meatballed. And Profane Creation, “meatballing” is when you sneak up behind a guy wearing shorts or loose fitting pants, and you yank 'em down, exposing his meatballs for all the world to see.

Surprisingly, the breakup was very clean. I have no hatred for the lovely girl involved. We just both sort of realized that our old friend Love had left the mix. So all the venom I was spewing was most definitely not directed toward her in any way, but rather “him.”

Love stinks, but I’ll get over it. And sucker that I am, I’ll probably invite him back into my life before too long.

Happy

14

When Love comes knocking at my door, I hum loudly to myself and pretend I’m not home till he goes away.