It’s 205 am on Tuesday, the 15th of April. I sit here writing this only because I’m damaged and distraught. I heard you fucking her about… 38 minutes ago to be exact.
They say there’s a difference between “knowing” something and actually getting confirmation of it. I learned this lesson early on when my mom “knew” I smoked pot and then actually caught me smoking it. I guess when you “know” something you can only create images in your head of the scenarios that may be going on so you never really think of it as real. When you get confirmation of something, like hearing a bed frame hit against your kitchen wall for fifteen minutes straight and noises that oddly sound like an owl howling… then you know it’s fucking real. This also makes you feel like a pretty big idiot because you already “knew” it in the first place.
So here I am lying in bed like an idiot because unlike him I don’t fall in love every day. I begin to consider my options. Like any other girl I would like to take my brand new Michael kors stilettoes and shove it up his ass……… BUT they’re way too pretty to be infested with whatever diseases his butthole might have so I refrain. And speaking of diseases, I really hope that UTI cleared up because she may be in for a little surprise in the morning. Not like I’m hoping for that or anything…. (Okay you caught me we all know I’m hoping for that.)
I could pull a Carrie Underwood and carve my name into his leather seats, but that might be awkward considering we park right next to each other in our garage and the neighbors may catch me. I could pull a Britney Spears and hope my perfume is left on his pillow for her to smell but that just seems too nice. I could write a song about him like Taylor Swift did in Dear John about how he’s a creepy older dude that I shouldn’t have even given the time of day to… but that makes me sound pathetic.(And I won’t torture anyone with my singing.) If I was 14 again this would be a lot simpler. All I would need is some toilet paper, marshmallows, silly string, maybe a couple eggs and he would regret ever looking at me. Just ask my ex-boyfriend from sophomore year.
As I refrain I laugh to myself because it finally hits me. The greatest revenge of all is simply the fact that she doesn’t know he’s been in my bed for the past two weeks. And then I actually start to feel sorry for her… And the UTI she’s probably going to endure. (Okay, you caught me lying again.)
Five months ago I never would have predicted this. It was one of those things that even a fortune cookie couldn’t predict. (The kind of fortune cookie that says something like “You will taste something sweet and crunchy” and it actually happens as you put the cookie in your mouth.) The even crazier part is to think back to a year ago when my only worry was what color swim suit I was going to wear to pool parties. It’s weird to think there was a time where things were literally that simple. Sleeping in until 2pm was normal, staying out until 4am was mandatory and taking a jaeger bomb never failed to get me naked but I would drink it anyways.
Everything in my life was good. I had a shitty job but I made good money. I was acting and auditioning frequently. I had two decent make out buddies who I would sometimes snuggle. And I would frequently sext my ex-boyfriend from back home. The boy I was madly in love with. And I guess that’s where this story really begins…
To be continued.