I’m Sooooo Over You

I decided to write you this letter so I could tell you that I am sooooo over you.

In fact, I never think about you ever. 

I just wanted you to know that. 

Because I think it’s important that two mature adults be able to continue to not think about each other in a mutually mature and respectful manner, don’t you?  I know I’ve been not thinking of you.  And I assume you haven’t been thinking of me, either.  You haven’t, have you?  Have you?

So that’s why I started sending around those mass text messages to everyone but you saying how great I’ve been doing and how so many men were interested in me.  I assume that when I sent that to your best friend  he had the good taste not to mention it to you- because I really didn’t want you to know about the totally AWESOME threesome I had last week.  Did that one get back to you?  Oops.    

Similarly, that’s why I’ve been walking past your work 10 times a day.  Please don’t listen to those naysayers who say I’m a crazy stalker.  In fact, the only reason I’ve staked out a camp across the street is because I need make sure that you aren’t stalking me- and the only way for me to be sure is to know where you are all the time.  A single girl has got to protect herself nowadays. 

Okay, so maybe the picture text of me making out with some random chick at the bar was a little much. But, I swear, I didn’t send it because I was thinking of you.  I just really, really, really want to make sure you know how much fun I am having without you.  Some people, like me, just have self-respect, like that.   

Yes, that was me looking in through your window last night…but, as I already explained to the police, you gave up your right to privacy when you told me you loved me.  You still love me, right?

Not like it matters anyway.  I stopped thinking about you the moment you said goodbye.  I can just turn it on and off like that.  See, I happen to be gifted when it comes to my memory, unlike some people, who never forget anything.  So get off my back about your sister’s wedding dress- if she didn’t want me to puke on it, she shouldn’t have worn it to the wedding in the first place.