Ten Terrifying Ways to Break Up…
I used to think ‘ghosting’ was only for people who were dating. Usually, at least the way I understood it, one person in a relatively new relationship would suddenly cut off all forms of contact—i.e.; they’d ghost their partner.
Ok. Well. I was ghosted by my husband of seven years. I came home from work to find all his clothes, electronics, and a few pieces of furniture gone. He didn’t leave a note or anything. At first I thought we’d been robbed.
The next day, his lawyer called me. I was being served with divorce.
The only time I ever saw him again was about two months later in the courtroom. He didn’t look at me, speak to me, or acknowledge my existence.
To this day, I still don’t understand.
Kicked to the Curb
My ex, who fancied himself an MMA fighter, always liked to play wrestle and box with me.
It didn’t bother me much until one time he play-kicked me in the knee and blew out my ACL.
I was on crutches for seven months afterward.
Straight Outta the 50’s
Shortly after getting married, my new husband informed me that my body belonged to him.
In other words, he meant he could have me whenever and however he wanted.
I suppose some women might find it flattering to be desired that much.
But I’m pretty sure our vows didn’t include, “To have and to hold…and to have sex with whenever you want.”
We’re still married, but we haven’t been intimate in years.
One Story. Zero Winners.
My former girlfriend was high-maintenance.
Beautiful, but vain.
Smart, but ignorant.
She used words like ‘bae’ ‘fleek’ and ‘nice burn.’
She looked great in heels, but refused to pump her own gas.
She took two and half hours to put on her makeup…only to later decide she wanted to stay in.
They say beauty comes at a price.
And that price, my friends, is just too high.
What about Pokemon?
She said Dragon Ball Z is stupid.
I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life.
Long & Hard Road to Recovery
My ex was a self-admitted porn addict.
She (yes, she) watched the stuff several times every day. She used it for her own private pleasure, and she tried to get me to watch it wayyy more than I normally would. I guess she thought everyone would have the same reaction to porn.
I really didn’t mind at first. We were still kind of in the ‘honeymoon’ phase of dating.
But eventually it became such an integral part of her life that she couldn’t orgasm unless she watched highly-specific scenes at the same time as having sex.
All the porn had the opposite effect on me. I eventually lost my attraction to her.
I don’t think she minded breaking up that much. It wasn’t like I could do any of the things her favorite porn stars could do.
She used hashtags.
Every text she sent me had #winning or #loveforever or #youforgottotakeoutthegarbage or any one of a million other things.
It was only mildly annoying at first. But then she started using them in actual conversation. As if holding her fingers up to make a # sign and saying ‘hashtag – don’t talk to me right now’ was an effective means of communication.
I pity her next boyfriend.
He’s in for a #surprise.
Now THAT’s how to Break a Heart
One day while doing some spring cleaning at our house, I found a stack of letters handwritten by my husband. I couldn’t help myself. I read them all.
They were love-letters, and were addressed to ‘the love of my life’ and other adorable terms.
While reading them, I was absolutely positive the letters were meant for me. I felt my heart swell up with so much happiness I thought I’d burst.
But when he got home and I smothered him with affection, he looked at me with a blank stare.
He hadn’t written the letters to me. They were for his side-girl, Tristin, who I’d never known about before that moment.
They’re married now. Still kinda stings when I think about it.
I used to believe her teeth were real.
I mean, she was only twenty-eight.
But those chompers of hers…fake. All of them.
Turns out she was a recovered meth addict.
I’m glad she got past it.
But even gladder I got past her.
Sharing isn’t always Caring
He decided he wanted to get into the nudist lifestyle.
He wanted us to go nude camping, attend naked music festivals, and join all-nude social groups.
I tried to play along at first, but it quickly got weird.
The final straw—he suggested I sleep with several other men during a camping trip.
It wasn’t just about being naked. It was this weird cult-like fad populated with ugly, unshaven people who wanted to sleep around.
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