Congratulations, You Fucking Twat!

Well, everyone here in the office hopes you’re really fucking happy. On Monday of this week you’ll leave your boyfriend of six years, Jack, so that you can fuck some douchebag you used to know in high school.

Then you’ll go on a two day tear of unsatisfying sex with people you’d considered fucking when you were still with Jack. This way it totally isn’t cheating.

On the third day you’ll just be bushed, so you’ll veg out and smoke an eighth with your roomie while you watch Gilmore Girls. Then you’ll giggle and talk about what the penises of the seven dues you fucked over the last two days were like, because that’s totally what girls talk about.

Then on the fourth day you’ll start to feel a little bit sad. This is only natural; a nice person loved you and you’ve done everything humanly possible to make it clear that you not only care nothing for him, but that your entire relationship might as well not have happened.

On the fifth day you’ll start of feeling bad again, then drink heavily and sleep with several other men until those bad feelings go away. You’ll also contract gonorrhea.

On the sixth day you’re going to get really sad, feeling an emptiness inside you (which is actually early stage gonorrhea) and call Jack, asking him to meet you at a bar.

There you’ll apologize to him, telling him nothing of the last five days and the things you’ve done. You’ll tell him that in that short time away from one another you realized he truly was the one for you. Then you’ll cry a little, just to sweeten it. Think of when you had that tiny dog that had a cast for a while to help with this. Whatever you do, don’t think about what you’ve actually done or you’ll run from the bar weeping and, if we’re lucky, swallow all the uppers and downers you have in your cupboard.

Jack will calmly and quietly consider both his feelings for you and all that you’ve said. He guessed about you fucking the high school kid, but the rest is all unknown to him. After a good long thought he’ll ask you to come over and spend the night in his bed.

On the morning of the seventh day you’ll give him gonorrhea. Have fun explaining that in two weeks, just before you break up.

Or, alternatively, accuse him of cheating on you. You’re crazy enough to pull it off.

Either way congratulations, you fucking twat. You deserve to have a safe fall on you from the sky.