When I hear the song "New Man" by Ed Sheeran, I think of you. The description of his ex's "new man" (hence the title) fits you to a T. And it really makes me laugh.

"I heard he spent five hundred pounds on jeans. Goes to the gym at least six times a week. Wears boat shoes with no socks on his feet. And I hear he's on a new diet and watches what he eats. He's got his eyebrows plucked and his asshole bleached. He wears sunglasses indoors, in winter, at nighttime. And every time a rap song comes on, he makes a gang sign. Says 'Chune, bwoydem light up the room!'"

Thank you, Ed. Moving on.

Our whole relationship, you placed yourself high on a pedestal in hopes to make me believe you were a God. At first, I was totally infatuated with you, of course. I mean, what horribly stupid and insecure young girl wouldn't love getting attention from someone as good-looking and "kind," "protective" and "special" as you.

At least, I got the good looking part right, I guess.

But by the end of that nightmare, I realized you really aren't as hot and good looking as you made yourself out to be.

So this one is for you.

I should have seen through your stupid Polo shoes with the leather laces and how perfectly you always dressed and looked. You kept up on your hair, plucked your eyebrows and went to the gym more than you actually spent time with me. The fact that all of your clothes are from Hollister, Abercrombie, Banana Republic, Lord and Taylor and other places I can't go to often, should have spoken volumes.

But again, I was just a stupid insecure girl who didn't know better.

I should have known better when you tried to drag me to the gym, especially because my health wasn't a concern to you. I should have known better when you began to get angry about the fact I didn't always look my best around you. I should have gotten a bit of a clue when you told me I looked far better with makeup and that I was out of my mind if I thought you'd take a picture with me "looking like that" (no makeup).

You made myself and those around us believe that you were the hot one in the relationship and I was the painfully average one, but since you are such a "wonderful, non-judgmental" person, you loved me for what's on the "inside".

Well, joke's on you, you aren't hot. You are just a tool. You are just a conceited, pompous, man-whore who put me down to make yourself feel better.

I hope you know you look foolish when you fix your hair every 5 seconds. I hope you realize it's stupid you post pictures of yourself at the gym and act like you deserve an award for "taking care of yourself", even though you're eating and workout habits really aren't all that healthy.

But do it for the 'gram, am I right?

I hope you know you looked like a complete idiot for yelling at me, then stopping to dust off your work boots because I accidentally stepped on your foot. Despite your weird beliefs, work boots can have a little dirt and dust on them. No need to yell at me for stepping on them, they are steel-toed, I can guarantee my toes didn't hurt you.

Your politeness was so fake and rehearsed for attention and false admiration, but everyone saw through it.

I'm not as bitter as I used to be, which is probably why it took me two years to actually realize just how idiotic you look. I just can't help but hope you have made a positive change for yourself, your future relationships and the people around you. I hope you will eventually be able to take yourself as you are as a person, not the materialistic, stuck up, fake nice guy attitude.

I hope deep down you have a heart a quarter of the size of mine and are able to genuinely care about another person and put physical appearance on the back burner.

For your sake, not mine. I know who I am. I know what I want in a significant other and people I spend my time with, I definitely don't need someone like you to tell me my worth.

Cheers to you!

Sincerely,

"The Beautiful One (on the inside and out) in our Dead Relationship"