That thing you're not supposed to say...
No one reads this damn thing anyway, so I can basically write whatever I want, right??
You know after you break up with someone... And they move on before you do... And everyone asks you how you feel about it?? The polite, correct response has to pertain to just being happy that THEY'RE happy. "It didn't work out between us, but I still wish him the best. I care about him and I want him to be happy."
Fuck that. I absolutely hate it when my exs move on, basically because they always beat me to the punch. I am not happy that you are happy. Yeah, it's probably for the best that we broke-up. Things didn't work for some reason or another. But why do you get to be the lucky bastard who finds happiness so fast?? Where is my perfect little rebound relationship? Why does it take me so long to dig myself out of this goddamn hole?!
I become engrossed with the need to bump into in public. Sweetly saunter up to you as if nothing is wrong. Begin a seemingly innocent conversation with you and the new lady in your life. Then, when you least expect it, I kick you in the shin, push you down, and swiftly walk over you. And maybe casually call over my shoulder, "Peace out, bitch."
That would seem ideal.
You know after you break up with someone... And they move on before you do... And everyone asks you how you feel about it?? The polite, correct response has to pertain to just being happy that THEY'RE happy. "It didn't work out between us, but I still wish him the best. I care about him and I want him to be happy."
Fuck that. I absolutely hate it when my exs move on, basically because they always beat me to the punch. I am not happy that you are happy. Yeah, it's probably for the best that we broke-up. Things didn't work for some reason or another. But why do you get to be the lucky bastard who finds happiness so fast?? Where is my perfect little rebound relationship? Why does it take me so long to dig myself out of this goddamn hole?!
I become engrossed with the need to bump into in public. Sweetly saunter up to you as if nothing is wrong. Begin a seemingly innocent conversation with you and the new lady in your life. Then, when you least expect it, I kick you in the shin, push you down, and swiftly walk over you. And maybe casually call over my shoulder, "Peace out, bitch."
That would seem ideal.