Dear Hairy Back Mary,
Well way to go jack-ass, you've managed to finally bi-polar your way to a break up with "B." A funny, smart and gorgeous girl who decided to give it a go with you (and unfortunately, I was a supporter .. but who KNEW you were a woman cleverly disguised under the good looks of a man). In the beginning, you were quite the gentleman and we both thought.."wow. this one might be a keeper!" But you couldn't hide your true colors for long. Within a month or two we both realized that you were as crazy as a loon, an eternal victim and a professional fisher of compliments. Your "woe is me" attitude was especially attractive, your obvious jealousy of your girlfriend's success was quite charming, your constant need to be reassured that you were loved was fucking sexy and let's not forget the Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde routine, which locked you in as "marriage material." You made grand gestures of love, claiming that you would have given your life and left testicle for her ...(which, now we realize, you really didn't have any REAL testicles to spare) , .. THEN in the SAME sentence, you curse her for taking a sip of your lemonade without ASKING you first. FREAK.
She supported you when you quit your job and then you had the nerve to tell her that "she didn't love you," and "she never does anything." (oh and by the way, no one was working "against you" at your job, except you, refusing to take any constructive criticism because you were too busy crying in your diapers and growing a big fat vagina.) She made the best out of it, believed in you and tried to talk to you like an adult and therein lies the problem. You're not an adult, you're a clueless teenage GIRL that wanted high school drama and when she couldn't deliver the overly dramatic gestures of love (chasing after you when you stormed out of the house in the middle of an argument like a big ol' bitch), you assumed it was SHE who had the problem. She could only take so much of your mood swings, episodes of PMS and irrational rants about how horrible of a person she was because she didn't turn on a light for you after she went to bed. (what the fuck??) before realizing that being with you was not healthy. (understatement of the year.) And true to form, instead of being an adult about it and leaving on good terms, you strapped on your bra, put on your makeup (so she could see your tears smear your mascara) clicked your high heels and huffed out the door like Joan Crawford.
You made my friend cry and I HATE that shit. My friends are family and if one of them is made to cry, you should consider yourself lucky that I haven't come into your bedroom in the middle of the night and cut your 5 inch clitoris off. But instead of sharpning my kitchen knife and wasting my gas, I take comfort in the fact that I KNOW my friend will be okay within a day or two and is more than likely to find the man of her dreams within months if she chose to. Her relationship with you will be filed under "lessons learned," "lesbian lovers of the past," and "crazy lunatic manbitch behaviour to watch out for." You, on the other hand, will never realize that you have serious issues because then you'd have to give up your "eternal victim" crown and actually grow a real live penis. Too much responsibility for you.
SO, next time you think about meeting a woman, please WEAR THIS SIGN whenever you go out:
"I have more baggage than the LAX. I'm a big ol' bitch, prone to random irrational rants. I will cry like a girl if you don't tell me you love me every five seconds, I will assume you're looking at other men, find me unattractive and get mad at you about it, I will blame you for why my life sucks, I will keep a tally of all the things I do for you and if you don't match up my tally, I will assume it's because you don't love me. I require a lot of drama during arguments and I REFUSE to have an adult conversation. Oh and I might have to borrow one or two of your tampons at any given day."
I know it's a little long and it will probably cover up most of your dress but this is for the benefit of the next woman out there who, accidentally disarmed by your looks, assume your a guy and actually hit on you.
Have a great life Sally oh and remember....