"Now Isn't Forever"Mature

            The worst part wasn’t that he’d dumped me for the breasty bimbo who happened to be my half-sister – though that sucked ass too. The worst part was that he hadn’t even had the balls to say it to my face.

            He fucking texted me. There wasn’t a build-up texting argument or even a pre-breakup pity greeting text. We hadn’t texted in days. He just flat out sends me, “We should c other ppl”. Doesn’t even have the decency to call me – no, doesn’t even have the decency to spell out his goddamned breakup message.

            No wonder my friends despised him. God, was I a dumbass.

            Of course, behind all the fury of my coherent strong self was the tiny heartbroken girly-girl part of me that didn’t normally show her face except when preparing for dates. I let her out for the special occasion.

            Which is why I was curled up in a tiny ball, hidden in my soft, personalized blanket, alternating between sobbing and gobbling chocolate ice cream, when my best friend finally arrived at my house.

            “Shit, hon,” she said, dropping the bucket of candy I so didn’t need but would eat anyway. She plopped down close and laid her head on my shoulder.

            “I know I look terrible, but you didn’t have to compare me to feces,” I answered sarcastically. Not sure she understood through the blubbering and sniffling, but she chuckled a little anyway and gave me a big hug.

            “Hey. I know it’s not okay now. And tonight we’ll go egg the fucker’s house. But let me just say one thing: now isn’t forever. Just remember all those other times you felt like shit and wondered how you’d ever get over it. You got over all of them. And you’ll make it through this like you made it through those – with junk food, stupid rom-coms, and an amazing best friend.”

            I wiped my tears, though I knew others would soon follow, and grinned a little. “Well, the junk food is being devoured, the best friend is here and apparently feeling philosophical, so let’s roll the stupid chick flicks,” I demanded half-jokingly.

            The greatest best friend in the universe saluted me, dug out Dear John, and popped it in the DVD player. “I’m going to make some popcorn. And a bowl of chocolate syrup for you.”

            I nodded. Thank heavens for sugar, Channing Tatum, and “now isn’t forever” deep-thinking best friends (not to mention eggs).

The End

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