Once upon a time, there was a little boy…
…who deluded himself into thinking that he was this cool, good-looking, and mature playboy with a lot of experience under his belt (and you know what I’m talking about). After playing the field for an interminable number of years, our hero finally met a smart, pretty girl, one who condescended to stoop down to his level, and went seriously steady for the first time in his life.
He promised her the world, and she–with romantic illusions blocking her sensibilities–believed that he was perfectly loyal to her and that he put everything in his past, including persistent ex-girlfriends, behind him.
Sadly, this seemingly perfect story had to end, and our star couple called it quits due to unforeseen circumstances (i.e. our hero may have been sensitive, but he kept his assets well-hidden underneath a THICK layer of jerk).
The break-up was torturous enough for our girl. It really didn’t help finding out that our hero never ended his relationship with one ex-girlfriend all this time, even while he was engaged with our heroine and even when he swore everyday on his great-grandcousin’s grave (twice removed) that he never talked to any of them anymore.
(The end… for now.)
I am not the girl, and I’m not referring to my ex. I have had only one ex, and even if I have certain favorite rant topics (who doesn’t?) he knows them well enough and I don’t have to enumerate them repeatedly.
The above story is another’s experience, and is a channel for my frustration on her account.
Doesn’t it prove that most men are natural liars? They’re never content; the only thing that varies is the period from the time of the promise until the day they f#ck up.