You Are a SCRUB!
When I first met you, I was so fazed by your green-blue eyes, sexy lips and Abercrombie-physique that I looked past the fact that you got out of your friend’s passenger seat, to go into his house, smoke his weed, and drink his black label. Then, when you finally took me to your house, I overlooked the fact that your mother greeted me in with my disheveled hair, running mascara glory every morning. And then, I swallowed my pride when she offered to drive me a state away every single weekend.
You were so good-looking; I couldn’t possibly stop seeing you because of such minor details. You explained that you used to have a nice car until you crashed it drunk, you used to have a lot of money by selling fake Rolexes on Ebay. I nodded when you said that “work is for losers” while watching your mother hand you a 20 dollar bill she earned working two jobs.
My birthday came, you told me to choose what I wanted on the tiffany’s website. I sent you a link to a pearl bracelet and you assured me it was no big deal. When the pearls started disintegrating, I went to the store outraged that my perfect boyfriend had spent $500 on a decaying piece of jewelry. I wasn’t mad when the lady let out a little breath and quickly said “this is not an authentic piece”.
But what I could not accept is the fact that you hacked into my Facebook account, appropriated yourself with my 5000 friends to attempt to build a career in some energy-drink-pyramid-selling-scheme you thought would spare you from the torture of working. F-U-C-K Y-O-U
-Written By CityPrincess