You can be glad because that fucktard is no longer in your life

The other day, I inadvertently recreated my past a la Douchebag.

Being my last day off before my trip to Vegas I decided that was the only day I could color my hair.
And being that I stayed up way too late the night before I hit up Starbucks on my way.

I realized, as I stood waiting for my drink, I hadn't been to that particular Starbucks since me and The Douchebag had coffee there on Thanksgiving.
There were the chairs we sat in when I gave him that journal and he was so moved he said I was gonna make him cry.
"Thanks for making my day so happy."

Pardon me while I hurl my computer across the room.
I've never known a man to prompt me to throw so much.
He's a fucking gem.

It should be no surprise that after DB's deceitful charm I started spending time with a guy who never compliments me.
I think the closest he's ever come was telling me I'm a weird girl.
At least I know I'm not being manipulated.
Obviously I'm weirder than Gonzo.

Then I remembered when I last got my hair done.
It was three days before my birthday.
I was wretchedly ill and trying to do anything to feel better.
And while waiting for my color to set I glanced at my phone.
Douchebag had emailed me.
And told me he wanted nothing more to do with me ever again because I was unhealthy for him.
Happy birthday to me.

So as I sat in the salon, all those weeks later, I couldn't stop smiling.
The things that seemed so dire then were now a moot point in the story of Resa.
I have a sexier man in my life to kiss, my health, my certainty that any man worth my texts would chase me down the street just to talk to me.
Not run away from me because he's incapable of anything genuine.

And my crushes will exit and new beaus will take their place and my hair will fade and I will paint on new coats of vibrancy.
And I will always move on.
And I will always get over the forgotten boyfriends.
And the ones who never even made it that far.