In my head I'm thinking - at any moment he will show up in Miami, forgo this bullshit bachelor party and realize saving our relationship is priority. He knows every second he's not trying to knock down my door is one second he can never get back. There will be tears, begging, crying and a proposal. Okay, I'll settle for plane tickets to San Francisco to meet the parents and THEN a proposal. and lots of tears.
But this isn't a romantic comedy. This is reality. This is my life.
REALITY: my shell finally cracks less than 6 hours before he's jetting off to the west coast for a bachelor party in Vegas. Seriously? He gets to lick his wounds and have his douchey posse reassure him he's better off single while they hire 6 strippers (whose photos he's shown me in his email) to dance and do other disgusting stripper things to them. Is there anything worse than strippers? No. But in actuality yes - a guy who is too whipped by his close minded & racist parents to fight for love is definitely worse than strippers. But having BOTH of these factors combined -- that's kind of what I imagine hell to be like. This sucks.
So what the hell am I supposed to do? Go to Miami of course. I mean isn't that the best logical option when the guy you want to marry is a coward, led you on for a year AND is living it up in Vegas. Single. Without you.
So I grabbed the BFF, (Tash, you'll meet her soon) and here we are at my clients insane 3 million dollar South Beach condo. Man hating, bonding, keeping the X factors blocked, and forcing each other to stay strong when we feel like caving. Now let me preface this next statement.
I hate Taylor swift... And I do mean hate. She is the queen of pathetic girl anthems and I am NOT a pathetic girl. But because I'm being real with you, I'm going to suck up my pride and shamefully admit... the bad blood remix has become my new anthem...Yep. It happened. HOW DARE MY X FORCE ME INTO LIKING T SWIFT. Honestly, who am I? It is ALL his fault. Douche.
So moral of the story: when your cowardly ex goes to Vegas to be a dirty, gross boy - go to Miami/anywhere outside of your bubble, be classy, focus on YOU, get a tan, workout, let guys buy you drinks and remember that you're worth more than you realize right now. Your soulmate will be the guy who stands up when push comes to shove... Not the guy who cries, runs and hides like a complete idiot. 29 really is just a number (clearly not an indicator of maturity).
baby now we got bad blood.
Welcome to Lifeisnotarom.com
Elle
But this isn't a romantic comedy. This is reality. This is my life.
REALITY: my shell finally cracks less than 6 hours before he's jetting off to the west coast for a bachelor party in Vegas. Seriously? He gets to lick his wounds and have his douchey posse reassure him he's better off single while they hire 6 strippers (whose photos he's shown me in his email) to dance and do other disgusting stripper things to them. Is there anything worse than strippers? No. But in actuality yes - a guy who is too whipped by his close minded & racist parents to fight for love is definitely worse than strippers. But having BOTH of these factors combined -- that's kind of what I imagine hell to be like. This sucks.
So what the hell am I supposed to do? Go to Miami of course. I mean isn't that the best logical option when the guy you want to marry is a coward, led you on for a year AND is living it up in Vegas. Single. Without you.
So I grabbed the BFF, (Tash, you'll meet her soon) and here we are at my clients insane 3 million dollar South Beach condo. Man hating, bonding, keeping the X factors blocked, and forcing each other to stay strong when we feel like caving. Now let me preface this next statement.
I hate Taylor swift... And I do mean hate. She is the queen of pathetic girl anthems and I am NOT a pathetic girl. But because I'm being real with you, I'm going to suck up my pride and shamefully admit... the bad blood remix has become my new anthem...Yep. It happened. HOW DARE MY X FORCE ME INTO LIKING T SWIFT. Honestly, who am I? It is ALL his fault. Douche.
So moral of the story: when your cowardly ex goes to Vegas to be a dirty, gross boy - go to Miami/anywhere outside of your bubble, be classy, focus on YOU, get a tan, workout, let guys buy you drinks and remember that you're worth more than you realize right now. Your soulmate will be the guy who stands up when push comes to shove... Not the guy who cries, runs and hides like a complete idiot. 29 really is just a number (clearly not an indicator of maturity).
baby now we got bad blood.
Welcome to Lifeisnotarom.com
Elle
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