A funny thing happens when you listen.

Living in a small town full of people reading your journal tends to illuminate any secrets that people would otherwise have no trouble keeping. This blog is quite the invitation to share details, and my inbox is full of scandal.

Sidenote: I only share my own. If you wanna start airing dirty laundry, start writing. I have enough lessons to learn without shining a light on someone else’s shortcomings.

The same holds true for stalking the man I want.

I don’t.

Once I realize he’s shopping in different departments, I put his ass on clearance and move him out of my way. No Facebook. No Instagram. Hell, I even delete them off my Pinterest if applicable. Sure, I can’t see the Tilapia that took my place, but his ass doesn’t get to reminisce over mine OR see the Anaconda warming his side of the bed.

I don’t fuck around when I feel unwanted. It is the shortest road to hostility and silence with me.

New car? Don’t care. New job? So what. Date with that new girlfriend? Yeah I’m not even going to know.

Wellllll…. that’s not necessarily true.

My inbox is going to catch fire almost as fast as his pants should, were there any real justice in the world.

Miss ******: Hey. Just wanted you to know a few things. #Details

Mr. ****: He’s boning *****. Call me. 208-597-****

and on, and on, and on. I don’t have to lift a finger to get the backstory, and you KNOW you’re getting the inside scoop when his dudes start to tattle.

Dudes will unapologetically swoop in on their friends’ territory and worry about the fallout later. I could publish a list. 🙂 Y’all are shameless.

The real joy comes from being unaffected and disinterested. While I appreciate knowing what I knew in my aching heart, I really don’t want details and I really would rather keep forgetting him than having salt poured into freshly healing wounds.

But thank you… for the clarification and list of names.

I feel particularly armed this morning.

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