Four Letter Word for Interchangeable
Please stop doing crossword puzzles with her. That was the reason you liked me.
I would follow your Twitter through the very gates of Hell. (I think I already have.)
You were my last stop on the hetero train.
Where Do You Sleep?
Sometimes I wonder if you are still alive, and if so, if you ever got a real bed.
I slept with that Spanish guy just to prove my life is more interesting than yours.
You turned out to be a liar, a cheater, selfish in bed, and emotionally inaccessible. It would make a lot more sense if you were a man.
My Way of Saying
Breaking up with you and then begging for you to take me back was my way of saying I love you.
You broke my nose and ruined my side profile, yet I’m still better looking than your new girl.
How You Say It
You are the only person who could say I never do things half-assed and make it sound like an insult.
Have You Met Lydia?
You said your future wife would have to be covered in tattoos. I will never be, but I love that you are, and no woman covered in tattoos could love or take care of you like me.
Up Side Down
The thought of you melts a smile off my face.
Above the Rim
Why won’t anyone else lick my butt? Could you talk to them, and tell them it’s not so bad?
The Size of Thoughts
Because I loved you, I used to tell myself size doesn’t matter. He’s helped me realize how very, very, wrong I was.
I used to hate sharing a bed. Now I hate sleeping alone.
Little Black Book Me
Do you mind if I contact your exes? Other women seem to find it so easy to get over you, and I would love to know their secret.
Love Locked Down
Eventually I would have let you handcuff me to the bed.
Look Both Ways
Your repeated brag about having “street-smarts” wasn’t very street-smart.
We’ll always have the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton in Cleveland, and all those hickeys I gave you.
Facebook keeps putting you in the list of People I May Know. Facebook has only slightly more tact than the guy who introduced us at a party and then said, “Oh, wait. Never mind. You guys totally did it.”
No, it’s not the end of the world. But it is the end of a lot.
I Promise I'll Believe
I hated when you would lie, but hated it more when you didn’t care enough to lie anymore.
I think about you on the anniversary of my abortion.
You were everything I wanted: cute, witty, married.
I only talked to you that first time because I thought you were the guy I’d kissed the weekend before.
I cannot believe I ended up with a man truly jealous of my crush on Brad Pitt.
Eating the Worm
It’s too bad that by the time we were doing tequila shots in my living room, I was over you. I should have attacked you for old time’s sake.
You called me your Ohio Poetess.
I miss the way you taste after coffee.
I was so outraged when you slept with someone else that I momentarily forgot I had been cheating on you for months.
You wore combat boots and a Mussolini t-shirt, and you used me for my meal swipes. But you liked Scrabble, and you admired my underwear.
The one moment I would like to relive is when I was 16 and you were about to kiss me.
I want nothing more than to fall asleep with my face in your armpit.
You always threatened to break the kneecaps of the boy who broke my heart. But now there’s no one here to break yours.
My body clock still wakes me up at two every night in anticipation of your drunk dials.
To Have and to Mold
As much as I want to hate her, I can’t help but admire her for making a brilliant boyfriend out of you.
One reason I’m hurt is that you would never do coke with me, but apparently you’ve done “a bunch” of it with her.
The Furriest Victims
I cried so much when you left, it traumatized the cat.
My most prized possession is a text message from you of just one word.
I never leave the house without makeup on, in case I run into you at the grocery store.
But the best part about not being with you: laundry. I’ll do my whites how I want.
The second I saw you, I decided we were getting married. I was 11. Years later, I’m still in love with you, and you’re in prison.
Our coworkers must know why I cry everyday at my desk for ten minutes
Thank you for opening up your world of privilege to me. Also your buttocks.
For most of our relationship, the thought of having sex with you was such a turn-off that I started to wonder if I might be gay.
I hate the fact that you made me feel so forgettable, but I can’t forget you.
What if I never introduced you to her at that party, and you never cheated on me and run off with her? We might still be together. How horrible that would be.
After three years of searching, I finally found someone exactly like you. She doesn’t love me either.
To me, you’ll always be that ditz in the car-wash video.
Now that I’ve actually read his novels, I’m even more mortified by how you used to publicly trumpet yourself as “the next Junot Diaz.”
Back then I thought you were poetic and brooding. Now I realize you were self-involved and unhappy. I still think we’d’ve had beautiful children, and boys in black peacoats make me think of you.