Am I the only one that’s experienced that moment when the ex whose number you think you’ve either deleted, or blocked, shows up on your screen, and you get a confused mini heart attack when your phone buzzes? This has not happened once, but thrice, because persistence is apparently someone’s virtue. Annoyed, and slightly worried that god forbid something happened to them, and I was an emergency contact, I called back with an optimistic “Hey, I found a missed call, whats up?”. At this point in the phone call, I’m partially regretting this, and wishing I had simply corrected the mistake past me had made by not blocking the number in the first place, but had come to terms that I need to see this call through in the shortest amount of time humanely possible. He then has the audacity to ask if I can “chill tonight”, because apparently, I’m at home waiting desperately for him to call and schedule plans 5 minutes in advance. I’m spontaneous, don’t get me wrong, but my schedule closes up faster than that vagina trap for rape victims when his slightly below average peen approaches. “ So we should meet up sometime, you know, to catch up?”. Oh honey, I’ve more than caught up. In the time in which you had to try to wiggle yourself back into a prior place of fondness, my best friend and I utilised our FBI skills. In fact, I’m so caught up that I know you got with someone a little after me, flaunted your fondness on Instagram (something I cringe at the sight of, and will not allow anywhere near my feed), then not only kept these public declarations of love on your page, but have the gall to call me up after she’s had it with you? Oh I’m caught up honey. More than caught up, actually. So please do us both a favour and keep your sheep in wolf clothing of a fuckboy self away from me, because in the great words of Somizi: The devil is a liar. And I have come to find, so is my ex.
Until next time,
Stay Gold, 🍂