I ran into an ex a few weeks ago. I was coming back from 7-11 NOT buying junk food. I was getting yogurt. Or something. And lucky for me I was lookin real cute. Dear women of the world: This is the main reason why you should always look good when going out in public. Not in case you run into your dream man. Not in case you run into a potential, or present, employer. Not to get compliments from friends, frenemies, or strangers. It’s to prepare for running into an ex! Cuz there’s almost nothing worse than runnin into an ex and lookin and feelin like crap. You just won half the battle by lookin fly. And yes, it is a battle. And now all you have to do is be great. Lemme show you.
My ex looks good. He is a hot pretty boy, so it wouldn’t be hard. After the greetings he asks how I am. “Great”, I tell him. This should always be your answer. Even if you just lost your job. Even if you just got dumped. Even if you just lost your cat who helped you get over being dumped. Even if someone just died. Even if you gained four pounds by goin to 7-11 every day to buy candy. Even if your best friend just cut you in the stomach by getting the hook up to a Kayne West concert without inviting you!!!!! Everything is great. Great!
Now, I was never in love with this dude. He was a rebound from some other dude. He was hot and broke. But I didn’t like how he broke up with me. Technically he told me he was fallin for me and then ran away. Guys really have a way. I mean, thanks for tellin me I’m great, but I already knew that. The part that pisses me off was that two days before that it was my birthday and we were all gonna go to this club to celebrate. He never shows up. Doesn’t call. I get this meek voicemail wishing me a happy birthday while I’m drunk and carryin on at the club. And I look dumb cuz the dude I’m with was a no show. Not that there weren’t volunteers to take his place. Still.
So we’re small talkin and he says he’d like to call me. Okay. I always give the okay cuz most guys don’t mean it. He calls. Turns out, he knows my best friend has the concert hook up and wanted to see Katy Perry (really?). I tell him we’re all goin and sure, we could hook him up as well. He’s happy. The night of the concert comes. I tell him to meet us at one of the parking lots at the concert hall, my ass at home doin my nails. He calls me at the parking lot wondering where me and my bff is. I tell him that we didn’t feel like goin but just go to the back door and ask for Usaka Lot. I hang up and laugh cuz there is no hook up. And I know his broke ass had to pay for the parking. I don’t answer the phone after that. I hope (not really) he enjoyed that Katy Perry from the parking lot.
Karma is a bitch. And so am I.