I usually refrain from bashing anyone, even those who have hurt me deeply. Karma will take care of it, I think. The Universe will do its due diligence. Those who have pained me will feel my pain one day. But there’s this one guy, my ex, that I can’t stop bashing. I’ve been running amuck, talking smack about his ways, his lacks and his undesirable qualities.
Because he doesn’t care about me. I don’t know if he ever did.
With other exes, I always felt adored, even during the breakup. My first and only love so far, Elijah, cried when we broke up. He was confused. He loved me. Even though he had feelings for his ex, I couldn’t hate him, bash him. I even hoped for a reconciliation.
My recent ex, however, didn’t shed a tear. He felt…relieved. He was…cold. I was relieved as well. I didn’t want to be in a relationship without affection, intimacy, chemistry or passion. That’s why when he left that morning, hours after our breakup, I hopped in the shower and cried from relief.
I felt free.
At the same time I am angry. He’s still in my life even though we haven’t spoken since he walked out my door. He is a family friend. He will always be there, cold. A reminder of a pretend relationship and how little he cared for me. So I bash him. I talk about how boring he is. I talk about how bad the sex was. I tell friends, and now all of you, that he’s like a robot.
Because it makes me feel better. Bashing him is the only way I can feel better. Calling him a cold and insensitive robot is the only way I can explain our loveless love affair.
Photo Credit: Flickr.com/pierremarcel.