It’s been two years since we broke up, which I suppose makes it about two years and a month since you started sleeping with your next boyfriend, and thinking about you still makes me angry. When you eventually told me about him I was angry because you’d betrayed me, but what made it worse was feeling like I’d somehow driven you to it by making mistakes or just not being good enough for you. The fact that you’d left me for a noisy man-child with a drinking problem did very little for my self-esteem. It used to keep me up at night thinking about how I’d never have anyone as amazing as you again, when really I should have worked out that cheating on a long-term boyfriend who loves you does not make you amazing. It makes you a needy bitch, just as greedy for sex and attention as ever.
It took me a long time to figure out that I’m better off without you – most of the credit is due to my incredibly supportive friends but it was my new girlfriend who finally convinced me that I deserved better than you all along. She blows you out of the water in every way that matters to me, and I can honestly say that I’ve never been happier to be with someone. She’s smart, funny and beautiful and literally willing to cross oceans to be with me, whereas you couldn’t commit to keeping your pants on for a month of long-distance. Thinking about you still makes me angry, but now it’s more because I spent so much of the last two years thinking it was my fault you lost interest. I might stay angry for a while longer, but I’m looking forward to a day when I can think of you with pity instead.
I don’t know where you are, what you’re doing or whether you’re still with the same idiot you left me for – and I certainly don’t care enough to find out – but if you were to read this I suppose I’d want you to know that I am, at long last, glad you’re out of my life.
Having said that, I do sincerely hope that the guy you left me for still pisses on himself when he’s drunker than usual.