I never understood girls who continued to be friends with their ex long after the fucking stops.
Maybe it’s because I mostly dated assholes, but why on earth would I want to get coffee or go shopping or see a movie with a man whose primary function in my life was to make me scream with pleasure then scream with disgust when I found out he was fucking that skanky stripper behind my back?
Besides, when I see him again at the bar after another drunken night of depravity, I’d get to take him home and have hot hate-sex instead of just a “friendly” fuck. Bonus!
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