You’re Not the One I Wanted After All.

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We all have that one person in our romantic past; the one that was apparently the one. You doodle their name encircled in hearts all over your Intro to Literature notebook and you swear that the sun shines brightly out of their ass. The two of you date for certain amount of time then out of nowhere…

You get dumped for no fucking reason.

Now, your story doesn’t end there because you’re a sadist and consistently go on and off with this person for an extended amount of time, substantially longer than the initial relationship. Well, there are the occasional filler people you would have during your down time but this torturous relationship has become so routine that when it finally stops, you crave it.

Exhibiting mild symptoms of addiction such as obsession, withdrawal and social isolation, people around you are there to have you break that cycle in your life. When you become successful, the littlest of relapse can become detrimental to your entire being, both physically and mentally. Honestly, after going back and forth with this selfish piece of shit for 8 YEARS, I thought that chapter of my life was complete. Like shit bro, I gave you 29.6% of my life, just be like Felicia and go.  For the last 13 months, I was in a great place in my life due to the reduced amount of stress that I was experiencing. Then one night…

He decided to call me at 2am on a Saturday night.

Of course, I was with my girl friends at the closing night of a Midtown bar, 5 Jameson shots deep when I noticed I had a few missed calls. The initial thought was like, he must be dying because he basically told me to go fuck myself the last time we made contact. Normally, I would have my over analytical mindset talk me out of answering those calls, the whiskey induced hornball brain I had decided to take a different approach on the situation. I humoured him because, yes, I was incredibly horny and the last encounter I had been less than promising. After the 2 hour escapade that involved a hot tub, I reverted to the crying, emotional 25-year-old I was when he finally decided to end all romantic ties with me, 2 years before he decided to sever all ties with me.

I never had an outer body experience before this moment and it freaked me out. Must have been the 3 additional shots of Black Label I had when we got together that but that experience was needed. One thing you never want to do is destroy something you had a struggle rebuilding and I was not going to do it to myself again. Arguing with him for another hour before knocking out was mentally exhausting because it rehashed emotions that I wanted gone. Makes me cringe even typing about this right now because I almost damaged the progress I made in the last 13 months.

So when I did the walk of shame home, I texted him, demanding to know the reason why I was contacted out of the blue. Now, if he had been honest and said he wanted to have a booty call, I would have been alright about it but he wouldn’t give me a direct answer. After giving him the proverbial finger, I deleted the text and hope to never hear from him ever again. Even then, that would be too soon.

I never want to be that girl that allows someone to destroy her confidence because she doesn’t feel like anyone wants to be with her. He knew how to fuck with my heartstrings and I finally realized that I don’t need that in my life. No one deserves to have a person undermine their self-esteem. Now, I honestly want to have physical relationships with people with no emotions. Less mess that way and plus, I love making new friends with cute boys.

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Stay Single my Friends,

Melissa

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The Joke Is On Them, Not Me.

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You know how they say hindsight is 20/20? I’m pretty sure the quote had originated by a person who had a really bad breakup. We’ve all had our fair share of stage 5 clingers and stupid douchebags but you’ve survived, right? Guaranteed, if you initiated the break-up, you’ve heard this line paraphrase during the intense verbal argument.

“I’m the best thing you’ve ever had!!”

Seriously bro? I would highly think so being that I’ve taken it upon myself to end this poor excuse of a relationship. Granted, 10 years ago I would have dealt with some whiny ass bitch because for some bizarre reason, I had low self-esteem. Whatever, let’s not get into that wack-ass stage of my life. I guess the point that I’m trying to reach is that these little punks have such a distorted view of themselves that it’s hilarious.

Let Melissa tell you a story real quick.

So I was dating this cute little Greek and Puerto Rican boy from Williamsburg that I actually liked a lot. How much, you say? Enough to ride that shitty ass G train and walk adjacent to the Marcy Project (HOV!). We hooked up quite a bit because that’s what people who don’t want to get married do in their late Twenties. Here’s the kicker though, it was 75% take and 25% give from his side, which drove me fucking nuts. Bro, I don’t ride the train an hour each way to not get my share, ya dig? After this went on for a few weeks, I told this kid that I was messing around with my college ex-boyfriend, just to get him mad. Honestly, I get enjoyment out of other people’s misery. I love smart phones for the pure fact that I was able to block him easily.

Fast-forward to recently…

I ran into homeboy in Astoria at the bar by his new place, apparently. To me, it seemed that he forgot about our falling out because after a shot of Jameson, we were sucking face. I decided to fuck with him again and made the choice to go home. This night, I was buying my drinks with cash so it made it effortless to walk out of the bar. While the session of hot and heavy making out, I realized why he was so fucking clingy and stupid.

He liked the way I did certain things.

Yes, I’m know for performing certain acts with apple skill. So as I’m walking away, he starts running after me and tries to get me to at least talk. Silly boy, talking is for children. I turn to tell him off and he attempts to beat me to the punch by saying, “You came crawling back because you realized how great I was.”

Snarky as fuck, I retorted, “If the that was the case, why were up my ass. Just remember, you’ll never have your baby dick touch marvelously by another woman in your life.” I kept walking. I know I’m good and what I do and it’s a double-edged sword. How you ask? Because guys don’t know how to handle the spectacle in front of them and they get needy. Ladies, if you’re on my caliber, don’t show the word. Take that as a word of caution.

 

Too-la-loo,

Melissa.