Let me think what I did to the first guy who broke my heart when I was in college?
He was the owner of the wine shop I worked for after school. I was doing my graduate degree and he hired me and broke my cherry.
So he never told me he’s married. We dated for a few months and I found out. So you know what I did?
He was oh so fucking rich. He had a fantastic luxury suite on the hill, antiques, a maid, a pure bred dog, a few beautiful children, a restaurant, a private school and a wine shop. He also owned a bar in a very busy district making so much money which was his major income. So I started writing letters to the government complaining about the noise and drunk fights non-stopped with all my elaborated and fabulous literary skills just like how I demonstrate them here in this crazy woman’s blog when I had nothing to do. Later on he was only allowerd to sell beer after 10PM but no hard liquor. Of course, if you’re ever in any bar business, you know how bars make money. No hard liquor means no income. Soon afterwards the bar went out of business. Coincidentally his accountant also stole money from his corporation and trapped him so soon he was sued and declared bankruptcy. He was in jail for a few months then he got out of it and moved overseas with his wife who also lost all her career and money for him. 8 years later, he wrote from overseas to me saying I meant a lot to him and he’s been looking for me all over the Internet and was disappointed I no longer loved him. Fuck him. What does he expect? Right now, he’s working as a janitor in his son’s grade school and close to the age of 50. Thank God, he lost his fucking everything.
Hehe, I can’t say I made him bankrupt and go to jail but I certainly contributed to some major headaches he’s had. That’s just like a hobby. I love doing that when I missed the guy’s touch and kisses for me. I just love the idea of causing nuisances, troubles and catastrophes for him. I’m sipping some beer writing about him here in my lovely downtown apartment in L.A. by my big window in some nice breezes after I happily walked around Broadway Street for some grocery in Big Lots after work and the cute young guys whistled to me. Does anybody know what “karma” mean? This’s what it means. I’m a psycho ex. Catch me if you can. I won’t even show up at your door late at night in sexy lingerie for some mercy fuck, key your car or hack your email. Those’re bullshit. I actually happen to enjoy completely ruining a guy’s life more. That’s just so very satisfying… haha…