If I do not count my current husband, I have only had two ex-boyfriends with the official label. Like, boyfriend-girlfriend, Facebook-status official, and only three times have I been somewhat committed in such a relationship. Are exes and daters (I hate the word ‘lover’) mutually exclusive? In addition, these other ones were added to the body count but never a status-changer. No, I will not share my number. No, you do not get to make assumptions about me. No, you are not better than me because your body count is one and your husband is a lousy lay. This is just a little story about a small-town girl living in a prudey world and about the likelihood of running into an ex is more likely than anybody leaving the safe comforts of home.
I like to call my hometown Podunk-Bourg(eoisie), where it’s not small enough to have that old-timey flair nor is it large enough to be metro or cool at all. It’s a place where people think they are hotter shit than they really are is what I’m trying to say. A particular ex loved to always remind me for my sake, “Can’t turn a ho into a housewife.” A hometown full of exes, daters, flings, or whatever they’re called and I avoid visiting it like the STD pool the tri-town area that it is. Seriously, what do we call these people? Whatever you call them, I could not get away from them anytime I visited my folks. You especially don’t want to run into them after an awkward split-up: Shitty Wife was a Shitty Girlfriend too. No more awkward than Jon Snow’s reaction in Season 4, Episode 9 with Ygritte. You know you fucked up, right, Jon Snuh.
My last official breakup with an Official Boyfriend was so unfriendly because GH became the man he is to me now. I left OB while we were trying to patch things up yet Gym Hottie did get his moniker for no reason at all. Get this: they have the same name and that just blew OB’s gasket and it was an unfriendly departure. Breakup meaning it was a lot of drunk calls to apologize and those apologies were never heard. One drunk run-in at a hometown bar and two years later, he somehow found out I was married and sent me a congratulatory text message and I was shocked. Why reach out now, you bastard? Why bring your petty small mind back into my life as I was 8 months pregnant? It took a good three years later to forget how awful a person that was. How a small baby was the answer to change all of it. A now mundane, quiet life finally let me forget all about how shitty a partner I “was” when I look at my family, my husband, and my two kids. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a crazy ass ex-girlfriend and will stalk your ass on social media. Can’t turn a stalker into a housewife maybe.
What is proper break-up etiquette anyway?
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