I don’t know if it’s some super-human sixth sense that brings in the snakes — I mean, the exes — back.
My ex knows exactly when I’m feeling great. Get interviewed on Elvis Duran & the Morning Show? I get a text. Loving my new job? I get a text. Have a new boyfriend? I get a text. The guy just knows when I’m happy and wants nothing but to suck the happiness out of me like the venomous snake that he is.
Last week, as I happily planned my date with Brad, I got a text message. I looked down at my lit-up screen excitedly, expecting it to be him. Except it wasn’t.
“Still hate me?”
There it was. The understatement of not just the century, but the millenium. My ex. The guy that has made me cry more times than I can remember, with little happiness counter-acting the sadness.
I read the line three times before turning off my phone and putting it away in my bag, where he couldn’t get to me.
I wrote him off for the final time this past September, and haven’t spoken to him since — except for one time that I answered his texts after I was on the radio. To tell him to never text me ever again. I’m so glad he respects my wishes as much as he respects me.
A couple weeks ago, my friend Anna went on a date with a new guy (I wrote about it). The date was great, and completely distracted her from her jackass ex. She was finally happy. So, naturally, her ex texted her at the end of the night telling her how much he missed her. Happiness sucker!
If I’m on good terms with an ex (which clearly I am not with that asshole), and and I hear that he’s with someone, I don’t even both texting him. Why cause problems for him and his new girlfriend that don’t have to exist. I especially don’t try and weasel my way into his life to try and destroy his happiness. But many, many people do. I can think of at least 2 of my exes and a handful of my friends’.