not even mad. just… embarrassed.

[…………………….]

wait.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

noooooooooooooooooooo.
you hit me with the—
$0.43 per day
payment
and a
”i’m trying”

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

yo
🤣

i’ll put that towards the air she breathes.
🦗🦗🦗🦗

but
was that…
a bribe?
hush money?

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

ma’am.
did i hit a nerve?
a trigger?
a utility auto-payment?
a sugar mama pullout clause?
no—
wait…
…really?

babe—
i was joking.

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
and here i thought
you were purely superficial:
but you’re out here being utilitarian.
girl—slay. **

deep dumpster diving—
like, did y’all think there was a cute rollout? 😭😭😭
were you really dreaming about a soft-launch
of your trauma-bonded insurance fraud romance?

girl please doooooo.

😭👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏
👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏
👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏
👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏
👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏
👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏
👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

honestly?
if this is real?
perfect.

you really said
fuck it
i’m out of options
i need a bag
a man’s gotta eat
💰💰💰💰💰💰—
and resorted to
“mousey girl vibes”
whose personality is "i ski in europe"
and whose only communicable skill
is generational wealth.

and babe?
you get that sponsorship.
this isn’t even revenge.
this is a documentary.
“the human version of a failed nepotism hire turned wifey delusion.”

babe.
i know.
i made you live in the trailer.
i made you sleep in the front yard like a bridge troll
guarding the driveway.
for what, a season?

big deal.

i know that hurt your little feelings.
i know you didn’t expect me to say
“cool story—
now get the fuck out of my car
and out of my camper
and out of my bank account.”

while you ping ponged like a dipshit
back and forth
between
threats
and
”🥹❤️ babe. please. just call me.”

but you kept costing me money,
babe.
cha. ching.
but when she found out you left?

broooooooooooooo
🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

what’d she say—
“wait… you left…her? for ME???”
babe.
o.k.
what was your story?
he will fuck anything
for that rent check.

and her?
the volunteer emotional support fund?
did she say:
"i’ll quit my job.
i’ll meet you down south."
🥹❤️

girl.
i had to hide in the enemies’ zip code
to finally make him go away.

but fuck it,
she needs to feel important too.
so she’s probably
still out here
thinking it’s a true love story.
screaming into her throw pillow
kicking her feet like
"he left his wife and child…
for me."

sweetie.
i get it.
(i don’t)
it’s hard when you’re…
homely, awkward, basic.
genetically…
struggling.

and sure—
your outfit doesn’t serve,
your skin’s complicated,
your hair is giving seasonal depression.
but girl!!!
he’s choosing you!
✨✨✨

(i guess? i mean…
should i try to call him?)

but seriously—

does that make you feel pretty?
because… men don’t… usually… notice you.
do they?
unless you say the phrase
real estate license
nyc
daddy
legacy admission
3 x fast.
like a trump kid—
that you gotta pretend is interesting
so you can use them for the proximity tab.

but girl.
you were a blur.
i. am. sorry.
it took me—what?—eight months to remember you even existed.
and only because you were out here—
like…

“👀”
“👀”
“👀”

yeah babe, you are the one.

anyway.
be well.

thank you for this.

xoxo