What a twat she was. What a beautiful, smart, and cutely awkward twat. It’s funny; back when we were both vacationing with our families in Louisiana about four years ago, I would rent a car and drive from New Orleans to Baton Rouge just to see her. An eighty-mile drive, took about ninety minutes. She wouldn’t let me sleep over because she said it was “too humid” for another body in the bed. I took the drive nearly everyday, and I was supposed to be visiting family. We had a cataclysmic fight, and then the next day, BAM, Hurricane Katrina hit. How appropriate. She looked gorgeous, though, with the wet T-shirt and her hair blowing in those violent gusts of wind. I asked her to drive out of the city with me. “Run away with me,” I said. She refused. “I need to stay with my family; they’re important to me, after all,” she said. Family. Pssh. That stupid, stupid bitch.
Did you know that she had some kind of emergency or whatever for our third anniversary? Of course you didn’t. I was pretty excited about it because I had remembered it was our anniversary (for once), and I was all like, “Dude, let’s go out or something; it’s a pretty big deal.” “I can’t,” she says. Why? “I think I need to go to the hospital.” Fuck her. That’s what she decides to get me for our anniversary: a hepatitis C episode. I bitched her out all the way to the doctor’s office. Then she got mad when I told her she looked hot with jaundice-eyes. I looked it up on the Internet later that disease transmission most commonly comes from the blood of an infected person. She probably cheated on me with one of her constantly-bleeding druggie friends. I told her she should make it up to me, so, out of the goodness of her heart, she baked me an apology cake. I mean, I freaked out and didn’t eat it, because what if she got her period-blood all over the cake? She was raggin’ all the time. I mean, all the time. We rarely had sex. And it was strawberry shortcake, after all. I don’t even like strawberries. Not anymore, anyway.
She totally started getting weird on me in the last days of the relationship too. All she wanted to do was sit around, drink, and watch television, so we watched a lot of television. I can’t even watch Discovery Channel or House anymore without thinking about all the fights we had about how she owes me money for scotch and beer. They really turned me on because they ended with her being like, “I’m broke; I’ll pay you back later” and me being like “Bitch, pay me back now,” and then she’d get this weird, half-grimace, half-smile on her face, and then I would pin her down and I would hit it. I would hit that shit so hard. That shit was so hot for me; I really get off on girls with, like…with that much self-respect, you know? Too bad her self-respect didn’t amount to much more than her being a hepatitis-ridden waste of time.
I mean, it didn’t get violent or anything. We would yell at each other, of course, or even better, leave each other angry messages. I texted her “Fuck you you stupid bitch rot in hell,” but I had T-9 and was too enraged to proofread so it said, “Dual you you stupid citag.” What is a citag, anyway? I love that story. Hilarious. See, those were the good times. Right before we forced our mutual friends to pick sides during our more drawn-out arguments, or when I tried to silence her umpteenth “you’re a misogynist” rant by jamming my boner in her mouth…but it didn’t reach the point where I would call it “unhealthy.” I still look back on the times fondly, I guess, at least the times where she wasn’t a gigantic, blubbering cunt. Which doesn’t amount to much, but still, I liked when she was quiet and didn’t drink and smoke all the time, which happened as we dated more and more. As we got closer with each other.
The point is that I just de-friended her on Facebook and MySpace. Can’t wait to see the look on her face when she discovers that. I probably won’t, but man, she had a beautiful face. Such a beautiful face, smile…man, I miss her sometimes. Oh well, why cry over spilt milk? I could probably do better. In fact, I think I will. I can only go up from here, the bitch.
