Well Mr Ex-Boyfriend-who-I-didn't-really-like-i-just-liked-the-scene-you-were-in
I noticed you ignored my last last comment on Facebook, brushed it aside like it didn't mean anything to you (even though I know you cried for two years after we split up and have only recently started having sex again). I also noticed that you continue to hang round that awful portly slag and are happy to be tagged in photos with her, BUT HAVE UNTAGGED EVERY PHOTO OF US TOGETHER!!!! I have also noticed she has conveniently moved into the spare bedroom in your place (the place we used to share together) and someone has recently told me you guys have swapped rooms (MEANING SHE IS SLEEPING IN MY OLD BED), even though her only hope in the whole time that I knew her, was to become even a tiny bit like me. Constantly trying to copy what I was wearing, constantly wrapping her arms around you and standing closest to you in every picture, sly comments about how much I drank or took or what. Funny that you didn't mean a thing to me then, it was a drugged up love adventure which eroded the more I upped the anti, and the less you would go out and score for me. Now though, I'd like to trip her little chubby legs up so that she falls flat on her face. Off a bridge. Onto a motorway.
I've seen your pictures and quite frankly I'm not even impressed. You lyjhang around the same clubs and pubs we used to back in the day, still the same style, the same people you used to bitch about are still there. SO WHY HAVE YOU UNTAGGED OUR PICTURES???? I'm clearly the best thing you could ever have got your leg over (in my defense, I was a wreck back then) so why deny me? It should be the other way around. I hope you know that I fucked Brian when you both came home together. You were "tired", had work in the morning and had told me during the night that I was being "petulant". So I fucked Brian on the couch that we had bought together. How do you like them apples?
I hope you know I have lyk erased every memory of you from my mind and that when I look back I am quite embarrassed to have let you bone me. I see in your pictures now that you cover up that fucking minging tat on your leg (it used to pain me to look at it) and have started to cut your hair short (why did you insist on growing it long and combing it over where the hair didn't grow-EWWWWW!?). I hope you know I kept those pictures tagged because I didn't want to hurt you in the end, and, well it fucks me off to think that slapper is lying in the bed I used to lie in and is probably looking at all my fucking french art that I left (because I couldn't face coming back to collect it- your constant misery used to freak me out and anger me to the point I wanted to hit you and say "Move ON!"). She's eating from my cereal bowls and is probably putting her sperm-riddled gob around my favourite GIANT MUG.
Well go eat shit Mr Ex-Boyfriend-who-I-didn't-really-like-i-just-liked-the-scene-you-were-in, because I never liked you anyway. I've moved on and I'm lovingggg my life and quite frankly I'm glad that you have untagged yourself because now we have no record of EVER being together (ha- your loss durrrrr). And just so you know if I one day go back to crack county I will be picking up my art and my antique tablecloth and my 1920's lamp and I will be collecting my favourite mug and you had better make sure there is no evidence that stumpy Sue has ever even LOOKED at it or I will post that video we made (the one when you came in the first five seconds) on Facebook and I will tag it and I'll tag it good.