For All The Guys Who Wish The Woman Of Their Dreams Never Found The Man Of Hers
Whew, finally! It took a while to find true love, but hey, after multiple attempts, you made it. We are delighted for you, not so much him, and now you hate us for the wrong reasons. Sorry?
How were we to deny feeling shortchanged after a decade of rejections? We've been there since day one: greeting the scumbags, escorting them out, witnessing your development go from a “Christian girl” to a persona compatible with that of Miley Cyrus, back to Whoopi Goldberg in “Sister Act.” Man, we loved all of your costumes.
We guys, rarely — meaning never — gave any of the d-bags you dated the benefit of the doubt. Something about these arrogant studs you said “yes” to made it overtly easy for us to assume that they'd cheat, break up with you first or manipulate you. On a serious note, until the moment those pretty lips say “I do,” we're not going to take it.
Okay, you hate us for our brutal honesty, we know. Besides not being able to make you laugh anymore, you think we have changed for the worse. You're right; we failed to grow an inch after graduating the 12th grade.
The only six-pack we cared about was our Yuengling, and our faces have bloated up as if we ate one too many cups of ramen. Not to sound like I'm swiping the Victim Card here because, well, I'm not, but we really applaud you for saying “yes” to the ONE person you are most…
We reminded you this tidbit after every breakup: You can do better.
But you were molded. When assh*les broke up with you more regularly than dropped AT&T calls, you became more jaded than the puzzled Virgin Mary mosaic in the Catholic churches.
Breakups got old, quick. We started to expect them around the six-month mark. We were there to cheer you up after getting sliced.
The only reason we bothered to do shoulder workouts was so that you could lean and cry on them. We were literally your consolation prize.
These gestures, subconsciously, were compatibility in its purest form. But we were young, and being pure was synonymous to being boring, which explains why you stayed flirting with those guys with whom you “shared so much in common.”
Eventually we lost touch because you were busy being touched, and no matter how much we tried to keep in touch, you screened our calls.
We are glad you found someone to genuinely understand and listen to you talk about your day.
Washboard abs: perfect for your dirty laundry. Just kidding. Perhaps, though, it is time for a new wardrobe.
Face it: Girls would kill to go on half a date with any guy from your boyfriend résumé. From charming to the most fashionable, the latest acquisition — Mr. Right — is the best looking, thus far.
I'm sure that you're not with him because of his facial features. Hey, as long as you wake up next to him every morning and like what you see, by all means, say “yes.”
In Love With
Your heartbreaks haunt us more than they haunt you. Glass shatters nearby, and we're reminded of the sound your vases made the night you threw them off the balcony.
One of your highly intelligent exes asked me for your hand in high school. I thought the gesture was respectable and chivalrous.
He knew that I liked you a lot. He also was aware that I had no chance, therefore, he asked me for permission. I approved.
Want to know what he did after prom, right after he dumped you? That hellacious guy had the audacity to ask where I get the patience to deal with your immaturity.
Ah, and to imagine that you might have taken our friendship for granted. Countless nights we defended you. Our beliefs were uprooted eventually, and really, there's only so much a primary source can do.
The more you allowed these rabbits to come over, smash-and-dash, the more stressed out we turtles were finding you in the clouds of their dust. Good thing your fiancé has a visor on his helmet.
Playing the blame game would take longer to finish than a night of Monopoly. Basically, our miscommunication led to mistrust, and mistrust cemented your predisposition of boys, which then (probably) caused our fallout.
Unconditional love does not expire. Truthfully, burning bridges is never part of our agenda, and no, we are not arsonists.
Your fiancé embodies perfection — handsome, sharp jawline, personable, no A-list fame. We'll do our best to be happy for you.
Photo Courtesy: Fanpop
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