Snapping a rubber band around your wrist every time you begin to obsess over them. In theory, aversion therapy sounds like it might work. In practice? It only guarantees that if by some miracle you do get back together, you’ll have developed some unique sexual proclivities to work around.
Writing letters for nobody to read. They just end up turning into confusing erotica.
Purging your phone and computer of all the saved texts, emails, blog comments, gchats, one-act plays, sexy-whimsical ASCII drawings, etc. Clever in principle, but in order to find all these gems, you’ll have to read them. Cue you, awake ‘til 5am, drunk-dialing your BFF to discuss the implications of an enigmatic sext he sent four years ago.
Hussyin’ up to try to get under someone else. Few activities in life are as forced and unpleasant as shellacking your tear-stained face with make-up and shimmying around a crowded bar. I give it twenty minutes before you sneak out to call the ex and reminisce about Saturdays spent on the couch watching Top Chef marathons in your pjs.
Getting all Carrie Underwood on the ex’s personal effects. Ebay, ladies.
Yes, I have actually tried the rubber band thing. No, it absolutely didn’t work. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever tried to get over an ex?
Posted by TKOG from Not That Kind Of Girl
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