I don't really. I just have this feeling that Steve's been banging some bird from his hockey club all season.
I am PISSED OFF. I am going through that wonderfully liberating angry phase where I have to tie my hands behind my back in order not to burn his remaining things and throw them out onto Oxford Road.
Where does he get off for chrissakes?? First he's an asshole delivered straight by Satan from the depths of Hell, then he just decides to bang a woman/man who is everything he used to NOT look for in a woman, he replaces me with the snap of his fingers, and he EXPECTS ME TO BE FINE WITH THIS? *high pitched shriek.*
Well guess what Steve, you penis controlling, ass sucking, hockey fornicating piece of shit? I am going to two massive parties this weekend, involving lots of drink and lots of fabulous looking men. Plus, plus! I have another date on Saturday night, after these two parties, which means I have 100% chance of coming right, because I can ALWAYS make a booty call to Mr Saturday Night.
Now.suck.on.that. I hate you. I hope you bash your knee on the edge of the coffee table. And I hope a pimple the size of Dante's Peak obscures your face. And all your hair falls out.
I'm such a bitch. God it's great being a bitch.