Fuck You: A Romance in Two Acts

Firstly, there is the first part.
The romance. The long telephone calls. The sweet nothings he whispers into your ear.
You know what that means, right?
He wants to fuck you.
Now, I know it’s not sweet or sentimental, but don’t bother denying it.
Every man, woman, and child has heard, “oh, but he’s different.” before.
He’s not.
He wants to fuck you.

Then comes the second part.
The distance. The long voicemails you’ve left him. The sweet lies you tell yourself.
You know what that means, right?
He’s saying, “fuck you.” Well, not in so many words, but the words are there all the same, if they never make it past his lips.
Now, I know it’s cruel and unkind, but we’ve all been there before.
Every man, woman, and child can see it as you walk down the street.
He’s over you. Well, the two of you at least.
He’s not returning missed calls.
But ya know what? If he ever calls you back, you know what you gotta say, right?
Fuck you.

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