I am shall we say perhaps being a bit unreasonable. I will concede to that fact. I can be an unreasonable person, and frankly, I think I’m entitled to that right. As the ex, you have to hate your ex’s new girl/ boyfriend. Why? Cause they’re horribly imperfect. Hell, they’ll never be as smart or as cute as you are; your ex has just found him/ herself some mere shadow of you to help him/ her get over you. I actually scare my ex’s new girlfriend (”Yeah, go figure,” she says with a grin.) And you know why? Cause I’m perfect—she’s intimidated by the glow of my perfection. Bow down, you mere second choice.
What I’m loving right now is that my ex’s new girlfriend is a solid seven inches shorter than me. That wee little leprechaun. I consider this height issue to be a definite indication that she’s not making the marks in other areas. I’ve nicknamed her “Shorty”. She loves this as it constantly reminds her of her flaws and more importantly, it reminds her of her place (below me). I’ve never been so grateful to Mom for some great genes.
Right now, the thing I’m having a huge problem with is anger management. It’s particularly hard to control when I go over to my ex’s place and the new “thing” has left me some little reminder that she is occupying what used to be my space.
“Oh is this Cindy’s toothbrush?” I innocently called to my ex from the bathroom. An affirmative answer found me flushing the head in the toilet. A little swirly action. While this may seem like a cruel act, it’s actually recommended by four out of five dentists to prevent tooth decay. Something about the toilet chemicals cleaning your gums. I read a study once.
Wow, it’s amazing how one perfectly normal person can get so scary. I’ll probably look back at this in 6 months and laugh my ass off. Of course, I may be laughing from the local jail and it may be Week 1 of a 50 year sentence. That said, I guess by Week 9, when Large Marge is trying to climb on top of me, the whole thing might not be so damn funny.
I don’t know, I really want to freak out my ex’s new girlfriend. I think next time I’m around her, I’m going to swivel around in my chair and scream “The Power of Christ compels you! The Power of Christ compels you!” Option B is to start obsessively stroking my ex’s arm and muttering “My Precious. No one takes My Precious. Nasty little leprechaun trying to take MY PRECIOUS.”
I bet by now, you’re all thanking God that you’re not my ex’s new girlfriend (this might be particularly true if you’re a guy). Hey, don’t get weak on me; she brought it on herself. She met me before she got involved with my ex, and she made the mistake of interpreting me as a reasonable, relatively sane human being. Oops, the innocent looks fooled her. May she learn to make better judgment calls in the future.
I will, in the meantime, be lighting her shoes on fire.
Does cheap plastic burn?
Hold on, we’re about to find out…
* This is a joke. I do not actually want to see my ex’s new girlfriend’s head detached from her body. She is, after all, not that cute; she may be hideous without a head. That said, please do not pull a Jodie Foster/ John Hinckley thing on me. I do not consider homicide a means by which to impress me. (Consider this my legal disclaimer)
** I have no money. I could give you no money for the whole head/ platter thing. Similar to *, this is just a joke.