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To the Girl With My Ex

"You just started dating a new guy, and he happens to be my ex-husband."

So, it’s Summer and love is in the air. You just started dating a new guy and he happens to be my ex-husband. You want to get off your phone but you’re a millennial and want to be on it to document the love that you’re feeling. You guys just posted your first photo on Facebook and three likes ensued before he removed it after the thought occurred that it would be better for him to retake it for his WhatsApp story. I made sure to comment something positive, perhaps I was the target audience. You two don’t need to get to know each other because you were doing that behind my back while I was dating him. I don’t mind the fact. Knowing that you’re not a new enigma that I need to figure out is comforting. I would just like to share some things with you that you might not know.
Well, lucky girl. You bagged him and he’s always ready to spoil the girl on his arm. Sooner than later, you’ll be getting meals and drinks at fashionable restaurants in hipster suburbs and most probably eating all the Asian cuisine you crave. Also, eventually you’ll be spoiled with homemade burgers, boozy milkshakes, and lovely baked potatoes. 

The sex will blow your mind, especially if you’re into quickies and getting naughty in public. You can be about sure that every time Netflix is on, you’re going to bang. This might mean you have to watch the same shows over and over again to follow them properly, God forbid you are caught in a conversation about them. Other than that, it could get romantic. Sex after date night and sex after a night of clubbing, where he’ll arouse you and be so close to driving you crazy all night before the beers and tequila shots he’s had catch up and he falls asleep on you, and his sexy plan. Also, don’t be offended by how often this happens as there’ll be plenty of daytime sex. It’s his thing, freaking out the neighbours. It’ll be like you are a match made in heaven until he starts using strange elixirs that he buys from Pakistani corner shops and let me not get started on the numbing cream that he’ll use to “last longer”. There are also the sex shops that you will be exposed to. Going there on a whim, trying to gauge your sexual personality. Don’t roll your eyes, everyone has a fantasy. In other news, don’t forget to pee after sex. Getting a urinary tract infection is not for the weak, going to the pharmacy for cranberry pills is much better than drinking cranberry juice five times a day and pissing it out. Also going to the pharmacy might be traumatizing or it might give you ideas.

It won’t be long until you’re crying about the friends you’re not allowed to have and realise you’ve run out of them because of how he behaves in front of them. Got too drunk and said something rude, check. Drunkenly admitted to one of your friends being hotter than you, check. Called one of your guy friends an asshole or a jerk, check again. You’ll be a lonely girl by the end of fall but don’t worry, make it your thing. Fashion it out. 

Do you like to thrift? Because he does and he loves spoiling the girl on his arm with heaps of old clothes too, tell her she looks like she’s in a seventies movie in them and plan many mall visits in those thrifted clothes. By mall visits, I mean the hard work of grocery shopping or standing in a queue at the bank. Don’t worry, you’ll be gifted with a pair of brand spanking new shoes . . . if you’re good at sex. I’m not joking. Or maybe shoes aren’t your thing. Don’t bother asking if he’s thinking about his ex. You’ll see a whole new side to him.

Don’t worry about being so young. Sure, his friends are older but you’ll learn their favourite music and movies soon enough. You might feel left out that your priorities aren’t the same, your back doesn’t ache and your hair isn’t greying or thinning but you may start to feel some stress as he looks at even younger girls. Fret, maybe you are as old and ugly as you feel, get a makeover. You’ll get used to perhaps looking at a girl together. You, wondering what she’s got that you don’t. Him, wondering if you’d ever say yes to a threesome with her. You’ll do this often, so just take it as another attribute of his personality.

You’ll soon have to cry in front of him, either because of something he did or because you’re just sad. Crying girls freak men out. But I seriously think it’s his kink. So don’t be afraid to do it, and often. Kicked your own ankle? Cry about it. Is your Facebook not logging you in? Cry. Your order came cold? Well, cry. He might take you shoe shopping. God, you’re such a turn-on.

Love to argue with the opposite sex. Get feisty? Win and have them buy you shots for stating facts? You’ve got the wrong man. Yes, he loves to argue. But he also loves to win arguments. He’ll be moody for a whole day if you don’t let him win. I might have to congratulate you on unlocking the baby girl in the man. He loves to win an argument and loves being right. So you’re just going to have to get used to losing arguments and once again, make it your thing. He’ll make screaming across the room your thing too if you really want to win. It might turn him on. So much passion.

By now, we’re at the end of Winter, the sex wears you out and the cuddle time is spoilt by the potency of both of your farts. (Go easy on the Chow Mein). There’s a new girl who he’s flirting with no matter how sexily you dress or how hard you bat your lashes. His mother has started calling you her daughter so you can’t opt out and you’re bored of the shows you watch on Netflix that you never get to share with anyone. I just hope he forgets to trim the thorns on the stems of the roses he might get to say sorry for any of the number of things he’s guilty of doing.

I might seem too friendly now that it’s over, but I’m glad I left. You should enjoy what you get.

About the Author
Dorothy is affectionately known as “Doll” and is a social commentary writer from Johannesburg who has written for Mahala Magazine and Live Mag SA. She is currently divorced and is on the dating scene. Follow Dorothy on Instagram @dollgritedge.

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