You want to know what I think about the last guy I fell in love with? I think he’s a real cold bitch, is what I think. If I’m praying for anyone, it’s the next woman who falls for him, because he’s going to take the same messy, ice-cold shit on her that he took all over me. I know I’m supposed to be all enlightened and pray for the healing of his mental and emotional illness, but I just can’t bring myself to be that kind about him, not yet, anyway. Not when I still get panic attacks after first, second, or third dates with perfectly nice people, because three years later I’m still so traumatized by what he did to me that I can’t operate with even a minimum level of confidence in their fundamental goodness. Like I’m a beat-up, kicked-around dog who still can’t trust the sweet old ladies who took her in at the Humane Society. All I can imagine, below their nice-looking, surface-level masculinity, is what an absolute pig of a human being they must be underneath, just licking their chops until they can get an emotional hold on me. At which point, they’ll twist a sharp-bladed knife in a swift three-quarter turn, straight through the most vulnerable parts of my soul. You’re just a body to me, not worthy of love or respect or any level of relationship, was what my ex silently told me, over and over, every time he saw me in the two years after our official breakup. Looking back now, I can’t believe I was delusional enough to believe that if I was good to him — caring, attentive, and pretty — he might change his mind and “choose to love me” again. Well, you can get so fucked, you absolute and complete pig of a man. Right now, I don’t pray for you, I pity you. I’m not in the business of revenge, but I do have faith you’ll get what’s coming to you. ❤️‍🔥—Y.B.D.