Oh hot damn. I finally saw a photo of my ex's current. And, oh Lord Of All That Is Unholy... Seriously, Boo? What the Hell is there that ain't a hundred times better right here
Okay, so I know that sounded all conceited and whatnot, but sometimes (and with me, almost always) its not conceit, it truth. If that-which-came-after was in fact an improvement over little ol' me, I'd admit it (with a few jabs thrown in, of course). I guess this is why there was top-secret clearance involved in this relationship, at least as far as I was concerned. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get this out of my system before I can even contemplate attempting anything else.
Let's start with basics, shall we? Here I am, the adorable blue-eyed blond with the gushing personality and insatiable sexual appetite to match and an overwhelming desire to bring another infinite amounts of pleasure. Sounds good, no? And there is that-which-came-after... and well... pardon, I just threw up in my mouth a little. Its not often that I find someone I'd say no to. Yet, there is a prime example of what I'd never be drunk enough to even poke with a stick.
Side bar: I know its hard sometimes to find better than I, but that doesn't mean you can slack off and bed just anyone. I have a reputation, you know. Not a clean, chaste, allowed in Heaven sort of one but still... Be considerate.
Okay, I think I'm good. Wait, no...flashing back to picture... of... icky...
Breath in, breath out...
Fuck it. Rant time.
There is juts no goddamn excuse for this kind of sexual misconduct. Malarkey, I tell you. I know that those chosen by me are good, attractive and deserving of the best. And when we part ways, I expect my ex to end up lying beside someone worthy of their affections. Now, I know that even ickys need love, but isn't that what other ickys are for? Isn't that why we (lie) tell them that two ickys make a pretty?
So why the fuck is my ex banging a troll? That'd be like me humming the alphabet into Paris Hilton's STD factory. Its like kicking puppies or fingering a gorilla or finding Justin Beiber (that how you spell the little tart's name?) attractive! Its just bad juju.
Plus, its damn offensive. Imagine, being replaced by a leprechaun with Chiclet teeth and a face only the backside of a frying pan could love. No. No. No.
When cheating or replacing, always, always, always fuck your way to the attic and never, ever the basement. You don't sell your BMW and buy a horse and buggy, do you? You don't leave your twenty room mansion for a rat infested out house, right?
So why should bed-mates be any different? Until you meet someone worth the debt creating ceremony, dwindling orgasms and shared property, keep moving up, up and away. Don't stop licking awesome and then take up with... yuck. As hard as it might be, go for better. Or, at least, equal. After all, you deserve it... almost as much as I do.
Okay, so now I'm, wondering why this is bothering me so fucking much. And I think it might have something to do with those horrid little feelings left over and unresolved from the (unknown to be) last time me and the ex were doing the naked dance. See, I foresaw more happy nudist moments and none of them involved me replaced by Igor. So, yea, maybe I'm a wee bit pissed off about the whole unceremoniousness ending to a rather enjoyable partnership. And maybe, just maybe, it pulled the bile up my throat when I said I hope you two are happy. Devil, I hate saying that. Cause I never mean it. Oh, well, you just take my good friend whom I've been drilling like JR after all and do all those things I enjoy doing.
The only good thing to normally come out of this type of insidious occurrence is the ability to say You know that trick you like...? Yes, ex-sweeties nu-sweetie, the reason you enjoy your play time so much is thanks to me. This time, however, that moment was stolen from me. And that just shits all over my usual post-romp-partner tradition. Instead, I just have left over emotions and nowhere to bury them.
Stupid feelings. In the end, they'll fuck you harder than Micheal Jackson at a Chuck E Cheese (if your twelve and under, that is).