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Eat, Pray, F*ck You

I am SO done with Roberto. Maybe.

After the menstrual cup incident, he suddenly became hard to get a hold of.

I mean, he hardly ever responded to my texts anyway. But lately, he REALLY hasn’t been responding to them.

But I mean, what if he’s been somewhere there’s no cell reception? And then I was all, “What if once he has reception again, my texts don’t go through?” So just to be safe, I messaged him on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, LinkedIn, TikTok, and I even found his old MySpace profile, but I didn’t message him there, because #selfcontrol.

This was four days ago, and I was starting to worry that he might be dead, which, coincidentally, would be the only excuse I’d accept at this point.

So, I did just a super-quick driveby past his house. What I found made me sick to my stomach.

A Trump 2020 flag.

Let the records show that I dumped him before he could dump me, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

And scene.

-Cado
XXX

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