Issue 5: Was I ready to date? No. Was I ready for some therapeutic dalliances of a less-than-chaste but not-quite-slutty nature? Yes. Was instant karma coming around to bite the ex in the behind? Indeed. Was I still pissed? Yes. Did I print up 200 copies of a zine compilation and sell ads and sell out? Yes I did. I’m still proud of that initiative.
Was it about this time that the ex started saying we should get back together, charming me with lines like “You’re new friends are a bunch of bike-riding, backpack wearing losers and no one gives a shit what they think about anything” or “You got your hair cut. It looks good. If I didn’t know you, I would think you were attractive. Let’s get back together.” Why, yes. But I managed to resist.
He also sent me a postcard, but spelled my name wrong. Dude, we lived together for four years. Figure it out, or fake it.
