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Dear ex, or soon to be ex...(46 Posts)
I wish you well and I want you to be happy. Enjoy your weird frozen vegetarian pies for one, I do not begrudge you them, nor will I miss seeing you tuck into them by yourself just as I come in the door from the train, starving.
I hope you have a happy life with lots of good friends and good company. I will not miss taking you places and being stuck with you in corners while you get weirded out by New! People! with OH NOES MAINSTREAM TASTES! and drink too much and start asking when we can go home
Oh, and about going to the dr about snoring. I don't mind if you don't do that. Oh you weren't going to anyway? Really? After I asked you 123,349 times? For the first time maybe 10 years ago? really? You weren't going to do that? Oh well never mind.
Oh, and enjoy the football. I hope you enjoy it. Really. I hope you enjoy spending every weekend for the rest of your life squinting at your phone and swearing for no apparent reason while the people around you are under the delusion that you are out for lunch, or in the park, or whatever, with them. Seriously, enjoy being infuriated by those 11 young men you will never ever meet and how well they kick a ball. Even tho they usually lose. I hope you get a lot out of it.
Any more for any more? Just me? Can't be just me.
I know you are great at everything and a genius of all skills, but I feel it might be useful to you in your future life to mention, just briefly, that the reason the places I always live don't have crunchy floors or piles of cheesy clothes everywhere, and yours do, is the little known secrets of sweeping, mopping, laundry, and putting away. I am only telling you this to be generous because I know you want to live in places like those, but you don't know how to do that without getting tiresomely involved with awful women who expect you to talk and / or listen to them. I know, it's a bore. You can just clean the floors yourself and not have to put up with the vile banal creatures.
frozen veggie pies for one sound horrid.
Please stop emailing me every few months with a toe-curlingly upbeat 'newsletter' about how great your life is, how well you're doing in your fantastic career, how happy and successful your beautiful girlfriend is and that you're going somewhere wonderful on holiday.
I stalk you on Facebook and Twitter through a mutual friend who you have completely forgotten that you are still Facebook friends with. From her I have learnt that your life is pretty shit and not the big success story you hoped it would be, you're actually a middle-rung sales man earning pretty average wages (there's no problem with this but what happened to your smug, superior ethos of earning more than everyone you know by 40?), your girlfriend is a really average looking, if slightly overweight, undergraduate film studies student at a shit university and your exotic holiday last year ended up being in Bournemouth rather than a tour of Cambodia and Thailand as you told me it would be.
Please could you also stop sending these regular emails to me as 'bcc' so it looks like you're sending them to all of your millions of friends. It's transparent to me that you're only sending them to me and maybe one or two other people you want to trick into thinking you're some big bollock success. Does it not occur to you as being a bit odd that I never ever reply?
Please tell your new girlfriend that I really hope your personal hygiene habits have changed since we split all them years ago.
I also hope you haven't told her/never tell her about how you tried to find your male g-spot by putting a 2B pencil up your arsehole. I think when you told me that, that was probably the turning point in our relationship when I decided I actually couldn't bear you.
Regards and best wishes,
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
that is a great one!
2B - or not 2B?
This thread is genius and rosdearg - laugh out loud funny in places! Very witty and great reading. Keep 'em coming!
Ha! 2B...did it have a rubber on the end!? Lol sorry, poor sense of humour
Dear ex, Inspired by the previous poster to attempt to pin point the turning point in our relationship, I am wondering if it was:
- the time when I was pg when you said "I will take driving lessons before Christmas. This is my promise to you" and my heart sank because I knew you wouldn't and now you had used the word "promise" I had to re-file you from "a bit flaky" to "actually breaks promises" (this was Christmas 2010, no he hasn't had a single lesson)
- the time when you flounced out of the pub and went home in the rain without me while my parents were babysitting. I followed expecting to find that you had either gone home or weren't there and had gone somewhere else. I was appalled to discover, gradually, as I sat in the sitting room with my parents, that you were hiding in the garage and graduated to making a supposedly stealthy ingress and locking yourself in the downstairs loo. That was weird. And embarrassing.
- The time when you wanted to show off our 5 week old pfb to a bunch of smoking dickheads at a picnic and didn't use the sling properly and her head was bouncing about and I just wanted to take her home and you were pissed off that I was damaging your trophy moment.
- the time when our second baby was months old, I hadn't slept more than a few hours in months and begged for some time to sleep one Saturday morning, you took both dcs for about 40 minutes and then woke me up by going in there to change the baby AND TALKING TO ME ABOUT HOW GREAT YOU WERE TO CHANGE A NAPPY when there were changing stations in two other places in the house, including the nappy bag. I cried because I had missed the one opportunity to catch up on an hours' sleep and you had NO FUCKING IDEA
- All the times, one by one, where I have said something and you have ignored me or closed me down. With or without staring at the internet at the same time. Every time you have done this adds into a great big ball of hard, grubby crap like a ball of a million pieces of grey chewing gum. All that. That big ball is how you treat me. That big ball stands of the Internet Sites of Cultural Superiority that you prioritise over the mother of your children.
Thank you Fontella and Juicy!
It's weird. I said I was going to name change because I was being so whiny and tragic last Thursday and Friday. I hoped I would bounce back eventually. I had no idea it would be in THREE FUCKING DAYS. I am actually struggling to hold it down enough not to skip around. I know there will be peaks and troughs - there are hard times ahead, a ton of practical shit to do, and P will definitely be a git about as much as he can - but OMG this first bouncing back is harder and faster than I ever expected
Anyway I will name change but I just want to do this for now so that the bounce back can be in the same name as last Friday's misery. Then I will stabilise, get a new name, and try to be a bit more reasonable
I hope you have a fine old time telling all your mates how I broke up our family, stole your house and stole your children for no discernible reason at all.
That, inexplicably, I was utterly determined and spent thousands divorcing your abusive arse even though you were obstructive and vicious all the way through. How bewildered you must be to know that there was nothing you did to cause the break-up of your marriage - apart from picking holes in everything I did, alienating my wonderful friends and family, using your temper to scare the pants off me, humiliating me in front of strangers, going round in a permanent grump, never smiling, witholding all affection, refusing to say hello to me, accusing me of neglect, selfishness, laziness; oh and then punishing me for wanting to go to Relate - but here you are, innocent and persecuted and pushed out of your home by this vengeful woman?
So do enjoy your time without this appalling, man-hating woman. Enjoy choosing your awful clothes - with your taste for nasty fleeces, schoolboy black trousers, seriously naff short-sleeved shirts, anything made by Rohan. Enjoy your musical choices on your own - does anyone else really own two albums by Swing Out Sister? And your nasty little porn collection - I really should have seen that as a super-misogynist red flag at the start shouldn't I? Yuk.
Oh and one last thing - do remember to clean your teeth more regularly and for more than 10 seconds at a time. I didn't tell you before but you do have terrible bad breath.
And one last, last thing. You're no good in bed. Won't miss that.
All the best, you fucker. Poppy
rosdearg He told me that he did actually put a condom on the pencil so he didn't get splinters. Bleurgh
I hate you.
I hate you for abusing me and our dcs. I hate you for admitting all the abuse to the police bar the rapes as those are the only ones you can still be prosecuted for. I hate you for telling everyone that I am fleecing you. I hate you for lying to the court and to the maintenance service. I hate your parents for preventing me from leaving two months before I finally did - even though your mother KNEW you had just assaulted our dd. I hate you for stalking me on here. I hate you for continuing to use our dcs as tools for manipulation. Mostly I just hate you.
BUT... I also need you to know I'm happy. That I can wake up in the morning and not have a knot in my stomach. That whatever you continue to throw at me, it only gets me down for minutes at a time. That I have a future which I control and I am looking forward to. That I have hope that our dcs won't repeat the vile cycle of abuse that YOU introduced them to into their adulthood.
Most of all I need you to know that I have not spent a single second since I kicked your sorry arse out missing you. Whenever I think I am I re-examine the memory and realise it never happened at all, that I'm missing what I think a relationship should be. And I will have that. I will have a GOOD relationship with a GOOD man. And when that triggers the inevitable meltdown by you I will very much enjoy calling the police and having your sorry arse hauled away for harrassment.
You are a vile little man in every way and you are no longer anyone who means anything to me. We happen to share dcs and, by God, I wish we didn't. I would give everything I own (which is nothing as yet as it is all in my dad's name ) to have had them exactly as they are with another man. Virtually ANY other man.
So, you can do what you like. You can pay �50pw for 4dcs if it makes you happy. You can buy yourself a porche with your hidden earnings or company money and although it will irritate me, I'm happier. I'm happier living in MY house with the children that only I can take credit for raising to be the adults they will become.
Not yours, now or ever again.
areyoureallysure - I am now standing on my chair, madly applauding you, with tears in my eyes
"Whenever I think I am [missing you] I re-examine the memory and realise it never happened at all, that I'm missing what I think a relationship should be"
Is a very important and useful sentence
I'm still going.
Although I hope you have a happy life and genuinely wish you all the best, I cannot tell you how incredibly almost tearfully relieved I am that we are approaching your birthday - conveniently situated like a massive, expensive booby trap on the slip road to Christmas - and do not have the face the utter excruciating horror of stumbling blindly around the shops and the internet, glazed with panic and despair, knowing that whatever I buy for you won't be good enough. I will get something for the dcs to wrap up for you because believe it or not I am not an utter cow and I know they love you and so they should. But not having to sit in frigid terror watching you unwrap something I have just madly spent £££ on, and then... drop it, saying nothing.... Ah. It's bliss.
Rohan - well I suppose you could go in their shop and buy something decent but he always seemed to get 'old man stuff' that made him look 20 years older! Or strange waterproof things for everyday wear... men look dodgy in waterproof trousers, I think.
Yeah, and like the lovely areyoureallysure - I never missed him, not one little bit!
You don't have a six pack, you hold your breath & take selfies! Stop kidding yourself & everyone else. You are not the god you think you are, far from it. You talk about not missing leg day, so why do yours still look like chicken drummers...!
Your 10 week old daughter is thriving by the way, not that you care, you could perhaps ask once & awhile, oh I forgot too busy putting your dick in her & then trying to impress her 17 year old son with how 'cool' you are cause you have tattoos & used to take drugs at raves. You sad sad man.
By the way you are 33 years old, stop talking about school & how ace you were, it was years & years ago, no one cares! Grow up you pathetic little man.
No one finds you funny, no one is interested in your 'clean' meals or how much time you spend working out. Doms & gains are THE most ridiculous phrases & I repeat, NO ONE CARES.
Your whole family are mortified by what you have done to me & your daughter & your mum would be so disappointed in you. You don't want to talk about her? I'm not surprised she'd hate you for what you've done. She so wanted a grandchild & you've just thrown us away. You WILL regret it.
I hate you & I hate her. What kind of woman shags a pregnant woman's husband I'll never know. There's a special place in hell for you both.
You are a weak useless waste of space & I cannot wait for karma to kick you in the balls.
You think you love each other? You don't know the meaning of the word. Love will never touch you again.
Sorry for what's happened to you crushed but men who do the old breathe-in-and-I-might-look-like-Mr-Universe-even-though-I'm-a-fat-30-something selfies make me
When you bent over naked, your balls were down to your ankles. I hope you've since invested in some supportive underwear.
Loving these replies.
I wish I had a soon to be ex, just so I could join in, but I'm happily single!
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