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Monday, January 7, 2013

Manic Mondays: Tales from a Psycho Ex Girlfriend

I am seriously a headcase. I can't even deny it.

Listen up guys, I can to an important realization this week. I am an actual certifiable headcase. Like, I'm not sure if my brain has always been wired this way or if its been slowly mutated by coming in contact with too many douche bag males in my life. Right now, it seems like everyone is breaking up. A bunch of my girliefriends in Phoenix and all over really, have recently broken up with long term boyfriends. This is fairly great for me because now they're all single and want to get white girl wasted on Wednesday (and every other) night of the week. I enjoy a good party, so I'm down, but its sad to see my friends hurting and playing out the whole "ITS ALRIGHT ITS OKAY SO MUCH BETTER WITHOUT YOU" but lezbereal, y'all are heart broken, even if you initiated the break up because of a severely immature and emotionally stunted manchild.

My point is, their sadness is making me sad and making me realize I am a crazy person. I am a psycho ex girlfriend. I do not know how to fix this. I am not over the Ex even though its been almost a year and I tell myself I am, but I'm not and it sucks and its making me slowly crazier.

Why is all of this surfacing now? Partially because of the break ups going on around me, but also because while I was home in Chicago, I was alerted by a friend that the Ex had posted a photo on Facebook with his NEW GIRLFRIEND, but not to worry, because I am 1000 times prettier than her.

I was sitting in Moretti's at dinner with Amy, Jared and Bugz and literally my stomach dropped out of body and knotted up in an angry and sad ball on the floor. I don't blame the friend who told me--- in fact I would've been pissed off if she knew and didn't tell me. Double edged sword. I don't even know why I care so much, but basically ever since I found this out the week before Christmas, I've been concocting delusions of how I will run into him and what I will say to make him hurt in a very bad way. This is why I am a) clearly not over him, b) clearly not ready for a relationship, c) a nutcase to the fullest extent.

So, now I share with you my top 5 delusions of how I will one day run into the Ex:

1.) I'll be at his favorite Starbucks fiddling on my laptop wearing my nerdy glasses and cute yoga pants and he'll walk in. I'll just look at him and smile, and he will turn on his heels and run out of his local Starbucks. He'll never return, too frightened that I might be there.

2.) I'll be late night grocery shopping at Walmart (because that's usually what I do on Friday nights, shut up, they have good organic produce) and he'll be there. I'll be fresh off a work out, still in my sweet workout gear but not too sweaty. We'll run into each other and make pleasantries. I'll say, "Oh yes, I'm doing great. I lost 80 pounds. Looks like you gained every single one I lost." And then, I'll walk away.

3.) He roams into my territory at Blue Martini. My sexy, youthful friends and I are sipping Skinny Bitch martinis in the VIP booth with the band dresses in fabulous gowns of sequins and feathers. We laugh and laugh at his inferiority as the bartender ignores his pauper self. I tell the bartender to send him a Troyinator (Jack Daniels and Rumplemans...in a one combined shot). He receives it, looks to see who sent it. Barely recognizes the gorgeous thing laughing at him. He takes the shot and vomits on the bar because well...its a Troyinator.

4.) I'm at the track in my very big hat and my very hot and wealthy male suitor having mint juleps over a few races. My horse wins his race and I'm in the Winner's Circle being photographers with large hat and beautiful partially owned horse. He's in the pauper stands glaring as I bask in the glorious Phoenix sun.

5.) I get really skinny, put on a bikini and go knock on his door. When he opens it, I'll yell, "LOOK WHAT YOU'RE MISSING OUT ON, YOU MOTHER FUCKING TINY DICKED FLESHY FAT FUCKING PIG FACED SLOB".

I'm not angry. Not at all. I'm not bitter. Not at all.

I feel better getting thing off my chest....I gotta get over it. I really do. Its been nearly a year. CMON, NICOLE, GET IT THE FUCK TOGETHER. 

Oy, I've still got a ways to go.

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