So I figure I can’t be the only one who has ever had a man (now an ex) be like “you don’t event have to worry about her, we’re just <insert lying ass statement here>” only for him to turn around and do some ole fuck shit with the same girl you weren’t supposed to be worried about? If you could hold a conversation, with ya ex’s side boo/bae/
bitch/person of interest… Without dragging her across the floor or snatching her wig, what would you actually say?
And be mindful that I’m using the term “ex” very loosely because it includes but is not limited to relationships/booships/baeships/whateverships/situationships and any other we-mutually-felt-this-way-about-each-other-ships. I say mutual because some of y’all been in “relationships” alone for a very long time, maybe always, this doesn’t apply to your delusional ass.
I imagine if I could hold a somewhat dignified conversation or write a letter actually cuz let’s be honest, I’d never be able to talk calmly with that thot if I still haven’t healed from that ex. It would go a little like this:
Yes you. I honestly don’t know whether to say fuck you or thank you. Fuck you because you thought all your subtle not so subtle advances went unnoticed by me. But please believe every “like”, every text, every call, every subtweet, subpost, every FaceTime, every DM was documented in my mental Rolodex. If you think for a moment that you’ve “won” or somehow proven yourself the “better” choice, you are far more sorry than any of the hateful conversations I could ever fathom having concerning you. Your willingness to play the side or ride the bench may have kept you on the team long enough to get in the game, but the only thing you’ll ever play, is yourself. Second and third string always covets a starting position.
You are in no way, shape or form “better”. Maybe easier. But never better.
How does it feels to be a cheap carbon copy of a real woman? To want to be of substance and real meaning when your sole purpose is only to fill the gap between what I won’t do and what you will do. You think you’re his vacation, the space he can run to when he’s stressed and you may be right. You are a trip. But even the most enthusiastic vacationer gets tired of living out of a suitcase, longs for home. The place that’s familiar, that’s comfortable, the place that just is –and that will never be you.
And if you’re feelings were worth a dime, I’d almost pay money to see your sunny skies gray the day he makes you question where he truly wants to be. The day the wind is knocked out of your chest because you thought you didn’t have to worry about “her”. He never really chose you, he just lucked out of any other option. You got defaulted into being relevant. He’ll come chasing after his star player or maybe a new one disregarding your entire existence; because this, child… is what they always do.
You’ll flashback to all the good times y’all have had, through tears of sadness and anguish –but don’t you worry. By now I don’t want him anyway so he’ll be home soon.
Oan when he gets in, after you’ve yelled and cursed him out and he’s finally gotten your ass to calm down. Give him a big fat kiss for me. Or shall I say, kiss my a** cuz I definitely let him eat it like a cupcake, Bish you THOughT!
Take care of y(our) man,