I can’t believe you dumped me online.
I’ve only seen you online in the past two months once-you despise wrestling with your modem, and so when you do check your mail, it’s few and far between.
So apparently you get on Instant Messenger for special occasions- such as dumping me the night of my birthday party.
Hm, ok, I understand, you cock-sucking coward. You couldn’t even write me a letter or give me a phone call? What the fuck is that? I thought this went out in seventh grade, asshole.
And then you say you’ve been feeling this way for a while. Hoping things would blow over, clear up. Well that’s grand. And I’m so glad that you decided to share your feelings with me, you little fucking hypocrite. Who was always bitching about honesty in a relationships? YOU. Who turned around and didn’t tell me a damn thing about your doubts? YOU.
You said that you didn’t think you would be able to sleep that night. When I asked you why, you replied that it wasn’t guilt, but that you’d be thinking about life.
Oh, isn’t that nice. Ponder the wonders of the universe in your little bed. May your jock-sized brain blow up and kill everyone in a 10 mile radius. You live just far enough away for me not to worry about that.
The best part was that I had gotten off the phone with you 15 minutes before, and you were fine, then. Bitching about being tired and trying to find a ride to work, but fine. You said you had fun at the party, but had been in a weird mood lately.
Well. I’m so thrilled you shared what exactly this weird mood encompassed. I thought we were doing fucking dandy.
And a half hour before that you had dropped me off at home, given me a long goodnight kiss. YOU KISSED ME, you asshole. Couldn’t you give me some fucking warning? All I got from that was that you wanted to be alone with me, not that you “couldn’t stand feeling this way” anymore.
I even met your fucking family, and you know how much I detest meeting parents. I met your grandmother, your uncle, your aunt, your dad, your mom, Rachel and the kids. I came to your house. Shit, Rachel even sent me a birthday present and a card.
And you met MY family. You became almost a fixture at our house for a while. My mom liked you, my dad liked you, and even my little sister was nice to you. The fucking cats came when you dropped by. I thought maybe that was a sign.
I guess after you took me to prom, and gave me roses, and wrote me 4 letters a day I got a little blind. When school got out, all that stopped, but you still called and still came by. Not nearly as much, but it was enough.
And there were bad times, but we had talked through them. You would say, after days of not calling or visiting, that you wanted to see me. You would promptly go play pool with Jake instead. Oh, how nice of you. Then you got mad when I left the house. How mature. So it’s perfectly fine for you to go pick up chicks at Carolina Wings while I sit at home, feeling sorry for myself? I don’t think so. Then you would apologize, and I’d let it go.
And the bitching-I’ve never met someone who complained so much. Your neck hurt, your back hurt, could you pleeease have a backrub. Work is awful, school is a pain, yada yada yada, I hate my family. Hello, I’ve got a family and school and a job, too.
But my problems apparently are so trivial and insignificant when compared to yours, however, that is doesn’t matter whether my house blows up because you’re sore from football practice, and you want me to come over and make you feel better.
You always railed on women, how scheming and evil we are. Excuse me, why do you think some girls get so twisted? They’re trying to deal with
When I look back, you seem so two-faced. You bitched about the cost of prom, but you gave me roses for our anniversary. You called me down in front of your friends, but at parties you could barely keep your hands to yourself. You always said women were confusing, but boy, sometimes I could barely understand what you wanted from me.
At the beginning of the relationship you told me about how far you’d gone, and I was fine with it, because I thought we were even. Boy, was I wrong. It’s not hard to figure out who was new at what. I don’t think you knew what you were doing. I made you happy, God, I made you fucking happy as a clam.
You never even made me cum.
So, you whiny son of a bitch, I’m officially telling you to kiss my ass. I only have one regret, and that’s the fact that I should have dumped you the first time you pissed me off. Stupid me for hoping you’d grow up and get a life.
If they talk about it but continue to be inconsistant then dump em (or protect yourself).
