Changing of the guard

I have certain break up idiosyncrasies. There are some rules I never break.

I replace all of my lingerie. For me? Lingerie is like bubble gum. Once you’ve given a piece to one person, you can’t give it to someone else. Period. I never want to look at my cute little skank wear and have multiple memories surrounding it. Eeek. No. Yikes. Gag. Some of my favorite stuff is from an old boyfriend, and I couldn’t throw it away… but I’d die before I’d wear it with anyone else. It just seems wrong. Eww.

Same goes for sex toys. With the exception of my brutally expensive vibrators. Sorry. Nobody else gets to play with them because I don’t want to have to replace them. How can you use those things interchangeably with different partners? Gross! Ugh! Not ok- not at all. I threw away some of my favorite things when the hippie moved out. WITHOUT hesitation & along with his sad little fella, went my favorite substitutes that were associated with him, because you have to get rid of the old cock entirely. The only women that have room for 2 are on video. You don’t want to be that girl. Uck.

I paint a room in the house a different color. I painted the living room pale Tiffany blue a week after the dirty hippie moved out. Lovely- and a color he hates. Two birds, one stone… or gallon of eggshell. Something about changing your surroundings makes them feel better. Erasing him from the living room felt great.

I’m a nice ex. I don’t tell all of your secrets to my friends. I don’t act like an asshole to you in public. (with the exception of the hippie) Unless that’s where you want it to go… in which case. I’m not much fun. I don’t like to fight and I hate drama. You win, go ahead- I really don’t care enough to be bitchy & dramatic about it. When it’s over… it’s just over. You know when there’s no going back- and there’s no point being mad.

and I have lingerie and sex toy shopping to keep my mind off of things.

No wonder I’m a nice ex.

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