Dear Douchebag,
Hey there! How you doin'? Long time no talk. Well, I guess that was the point, right? I mean, you are avoiding my every text, call,and AOL Instant message? Or am I just going crazy? Because you kinda make me feel a little crazy. I mean one minute it's all "hey beautiful, wanna hang out?" and the next, you don't respond to me for two weeks! I don't understand.
Therefore, I have decided you are a douchebag.
Not just because you haven't answered me back, but because of the way you treat me when you finally do answer. You ask me to hang out tonight, (which I am ecstatic about), but I tell you I already made plans with my girlfriends tonight and ask if we can hang tomorrow! All of a sudden you are so angry with me and make me feel guilty by saying I never make time for you or that you are not important to me. Both of which are not true, so I offer to cancel my plans with my friends to spend time with you. But that makes you even angrier and I'm left crying in my pillow wondering what I could do differently to make you happy.
When we finally do hang out (which I ditched my friends for without telling you this time) all you do is sit on your phone and randomly mumble a "yeah" or "mhm" whenever I ask you a question. Is it that hard to put your phone down when we are hanging out together? (I mean, you couldn't answer my texts for weeks, but your buddy John gets a response in 2.8 seconds) All I want to do is get to know you better! Maybe you could even listen to what I'm saying and act interested for a couple of minutes.
I'm not just calling you a douchebag because you are moodier than a teenage girl (and trust me, I would know) or because you ignore me, both over the phone and in person, but you're a douchebag because of how you treat me around other people. It's one thing to ignore me and degrade me when it's just us, but to purposely make me look stupid and feel ashamed of myself in front of your friends is just mean. Do you really think so little of me? Your friends all think I'm dumb. They probably wonder why you're with me. Hell, I wonder why you're with me.
But what you're not getting, the small part that somehow keeps slipping your mind, is that I won't stay around long enough for you to hurt me. You can't treat me, or anyone else this way. (I sure hope you don't treat your own mother this way!) and that is why I left your phone number right on the table when I picked up your plates and dishes. You catcalled from afar as I delivered food to other tables and degraded me as I brought you your drinks. I promise you, the only order I will ever take from you is the kind that comes with a side of fries.
Sincerely,
The girl who knows better
