MonkeyPants

Exed.

My ex finally got around to contacting me on Facebook.

Situations like this, as well as macaroni salad and threequels, are why the expression ‘meh’ came into English speakers’ vocabularies.

Yes, I was one of the best friends he ever had, but I’m done there. He’d like to bury the hatchet? What hatchet? We’re not feuding. I decided I didn’t need him anymore. The way you don’t need a boyfriend with a substance abuse problem. The way you don’t need a boyfriend so insecure that he actually thinks about what song should be playing on the car stereo when you pull up at a party.

His message is well-crafted, but I know him of old. I can see his thought processes in the message, and I just don’t share his sentiments. His Facebook profile suggests that his deep-seated insecurities are not resolved, which in turn suggests that the up-and-down cycle of his life hasn’t stabilized. Um, no thank you. I have had enough helpings of that drama, thanks.

Sorry, dude. I was your stability for almost a decade. If you haven’t got the hang of it by now, I’m just not there for you.