I’d like to preface this by apologizing for not writing for a while; I doubt many people actually cared, but for those of you who did, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this article. If not, see picture below.
Like the Terminator being sent back in time to prevent future John Connor from being born, the ex is from the present sent to the bar to prevent any future sexual encounters for that night. A jilted lover is one of the most lethal and efficient ways to completely close any open vagina doors that may be open to you. Having an ex-girlfriend or ex-boyfriend at the bar is a little bit like having a giant zit on your face in that everyone understands how bad it sucks, but it can slam the door on you pulling in a slampiece pretty aggressively.
Guys and girls are different following a break-up in most aspects. While most girls sit around and shovel ice cream into their mouths while watching “Sleepless in Seattle” on repeat, guys try and mask all their feminine feelings by getting their mind off their exes by finding the first woman around that looks like she has questionable morals. If a guy is genuinely upset about a break-up, he will do literally anything to get his mind off of his old lady. These distractions usually begin and end with finding the first girl that look the least bit willing the take their clothes off that night.
For guys it’s a little like ordering food in that you could wait a little extra time for a better product, but expediting the process and getting a shittier product is what most people decide when they are hungry.
Running into an ex can be terribly awkward. Especially at the bar. The majority of the time running into an ex when you are trying to roll your new friend into a fuckball is like coming across a badger who put her grumpy pants on the wrong side of the bed. Nothing good ever comes of it. Ever heard a story of someone saying “Oh, I ran into my recent ex last night, we had a lovely conversation, shared a Top Girl Martini and said our goodnights.”? Me either.
The worst thing about actually running into the ex is the collateral damage you create. Listening to anyone bitch about their ex is like having sex without a video camera: completely useless. Not to mention that actually paying attention is like standing next to the microwave staring at the timer: it won’t make time go faster, and you might get ball cancer (citation needed). When a girl sees her ex-beau trying to rip some tickets to Poundtown, it sends her into a raging tailspin of jealously, rage, and an overall sense of crazy. This may sound like a harsh generalization, but this is based on empirical evidence courtesy of the bar.
I literally have gotten fear boners from thinking about running into an ex at the bar. Watching it happen though, well, it’s serendipitous. One night working by the door a couple walked out together, obviously quite drunk. I figured he had picked her up on the dance floor. Good for him, I thought. That fleeting moment of a mental high five to the guy was followed by an eternity of mental pity for this poor fool. As the lovebirds (read: fuckbirds) walked out slobbering all over each other, I hear a girl plowing through the crowd at the two who were mashing so hard I was fairly certain that they could have given each other an STD. The girl coming through the crowd had been crying and had some pretty massive raccoon eyes (not like that, you racist).
The interaction that I then witnessed can only be described as nuclear. I’m not sure I will ever understand why people get so pissed off about seeing their exes move on, but this girls surely had a few qualms she was looking to air out. She spent the next five to ten minutes in this poor guys face like a baseball manager and an ump letting him know how much she hated him and letting his new broad know just how pathetic he was in bed. Pathetic is a real bummer when referred to anything in the sexual realm. Seeing the guys demeanor after that comment was best described as defeated.
The ex-girlfriend had won. Not only did she score a major victory for Team Psychopath, but she also turned the newest slampiece against the guy, lecturing him about how she had no idea he just broke up with his old girlfriend. Then she stormed off in the opposite direction. All in all, I guess it was mission accomplished, if her mission was to look like the craziest women in the entire world next to that serial killer prosititute in “Monster”.
I know it seems like I am picking on girls, when I know guys are just as guilty as becoming jealous assholes. We just express our jealously like normal, adjusted human beings. Like slashing your car tires, driving by your house at 3 a.m. really slowly, and calling you over and over and hanging up. All I am saying is that have the decency to take that shit into private. The last thing the general public needs to know about is how your ex tried to stick his finger in your ass after a few dirty martinis. Everyone will thank you.