ADVENTURES OF A FOOD SLUT

This year my former boyfriend and I (but mostly him) came to this great fucking conclusion all by himself: that we should cease seeing each other. That’s like waking up after fuckfest weekend, finding out that for months you've been sleeping with the enemy, and now you have Gonorrhea, Herpes, AIDS, Crabs, Trichomoniasis Chlamydia, and Scabies. Who writes a fucking email to breakup with a girl?
I’ll tell you who...the guy that has his balls tied in a fucking knot, fashioning tight pink lace bikini panties with red ants crawling up his ass crack, so much so that he can whistle the song from the Wizard of Oz out his blowhole. He got all ornery and irritable because, I got pissed off because he was rude enough to tell me to go get my own breakfast after a night of debauchery. I wanted breakfast, and I wanted him to get for me. Afterall I was his little slut all weekend to do whatever he wanted anytime, anywhere. Finally I got pissed off not so much at him but mostly because this dude acted if I not even worth a slice of burnt toast. Plus on my way out the door I uttered some f’ed up crap like I’m continuing my search for a man that would treat not only like his personal slut, but someone who behaves as though he actually likes me. I mean fake if you have to (for a minute), and soon as I walk out the door punch a hole in the wall pretending it was my face. Call me whatever filthy names that comes to your mind, but get my breakfast. So now I’ve decided I’m going to become a food slut just because of my former. He’s ruined me for all the other men who might actually like me. But who gives a damn now.