Tuesday, March 12, 2013

just because.. we dated doesn't mean i even liked you

You want to stay up all night with my roommate drawing fake tattoos on her? After you told me you really liked her tits? Oh why not, that sounds fun.

You tell some girl to come visit you while I’m visiting family on Thanksgiving? Fun! And I find out because you left your phone next to the bed we share while you're getting drunk in your roommates room and I answered it. That’s even more fun.

I get accepted into a college 8 hours away from my hometown to be closer to you. We plan for months on how our relationship will go once I’m closer. You decide to text me while I’m driving with my family, who’s coming to move me into my new dorm that you want to break up. You could have saved the money and told me when I got there.

I find out the new girl you’re sleeping with is 15 by the voicemail you received from the county sheriffs office looking for her the weekend previously. Now that Little Mermaid watch packaging and long blonde hair in your car make sense. I guess I was getting to old for you.

It’s just not the right time for you, I get it, but you want to date that other girl from structural drawing class? Even after you told me you were molested after we had sex one night? I didn’t see that one coming.

I follow you across the country and live in a guest bedroom of some couple I’ve never met. I get eaten alive by bedbugs and you break your fist on a telephone booth trying not to hit me within the first week of me moving in. While out drinking with some new friends we’ve made, you tell them you fucked one of your patrons at the bar you used to bartend at. You forgot to mention that to me, like, ever before. Awkward.

You tell me you’re divorced and have me spend the weekend with you. Your child wakes up at 6am screaming "MOMMY" at me at the top of her lungs. The next day while you’re tattooing me, your wife shows up and sits with us for 6 out of the 10 hours. She adds me on myspace. She doesn’t know we slept together the night before, and you’re in deep shit.  I should have known when I realized you were living in your parents basement at 33.

We start sleeping together. You run into a friend of mine at a bar and drunkenly tell them you’re dating a girl that’s a brunette and really into astrology. I have black hair and I’m pretty sure you were born in the year of the asshole.

I avidly avoid you for weeks. You can’t take the hint and I ask you if you really think there’s a spark between us, via text. You say yes. Even more awkward.

We spent an entire day fighting but I make amends long enough for you to be my date for a friend’s birthday party. You get jealous and leave me at the club, with the one person you’re jealous that I’m talking to. I sleep with them. Your bad. 



  1. I love the honesty and I can relate!

  2. Oh I love this. Those damn bitches.

  3. I love this post, written wonderfully.
    Found your blog through the GFC Blog hop, Newest follower & looking forward to future posts.


  4. This is amazing. I absolutely love it.