I drunkenly called him from a house party and said I wanted to break up. It was February, a little after Valentine’s Day. He had gotten me tickets to see for MUSE for my birthday which was in March. We still went, and continued to hook up until I slowly stopped hearing from him.
It was his coworker, the one whose dad pierced his lip. The picture of them about about to kiss hurt the worst.
He said I had breadcrumbs in my vagina (I didn’t, for context) and then he apologized, sincerely.
P.S. Phew, hi to all the strangers who signed up for this odd lil’ newsletter in the past week thanks to Substack’s homepage spotlight. I’m glad you’re here! Tell me your story, too, please. -jz