"Will you, Hayden Ryder Francisco Asbestos take Samantha Mary-Sue McNaughty to be your lawfully wedded wife?" asks the priest, peering at the groom from underneath his white, bushy brows. 

With a salacious smile on his face, Hayden turns to look at his bride, whose hands he clasps in his own. Many things go through his mind at that very moment: his other family, the positive result on his HIV test, his Brazilian mistress...all of those things would have to be swept under the rug in order for him to start a new life with his beloved Samantha. 

He had been waiting for this moment ever since he first laid eyes on her—as she undressed in her bedroom on a Saturday afternoon. He had just moved in next door, and after only a few minutes of that marvelous sight had made it his mission to watch her  every single day, his hardened member in hand. Nobody would have believed Samantha had she come to find out about this disturbing secret; Hayden was handsome, rich, and could get any woman he wanted. Besides, everybody knows that women like to be visually assaulted, it makes them feel beautiful and increases their self-esteem. 

"I do," he said, running his tongue over his teeth. Samantha blushed at the innuendo. The pair had tried a new sex move only a week ago, and it made her hot just thinking about it.

The oblivious priest bowed his head and with a smile, turned to Samantha. "Will you, Samantha Mary-Sue McNaughty take Hayden Ryder Francisco Asbestos to be your lawfully wedded husband?" 

Everybody waits with bated breath as Samantha's blue orbs glisten with tears.

"I—" 

Suddenly, the church doors fly open, revealing a very pissed-looking pregnant woman. 

"Alright, I think we should call it a night," I say, switching off the TV. After my #inspirational twenty-minute talk, we decided to continue watching the shitty Romance movie, just to see where it went. 

But it's already four in the morning and the finish line is nowhere in sight, so I think it would be best to just record what's left of the movie and watch it some other day. I'm tired as hell and am supposed to wake up in a few hours—plus, I have to think about what I'm going to do with my guest.

I uncross my legs and look over at you, any shadow of a smile disappearing when I notice penny-sized tears rolling down your cheeks. Not again. I've had enough emotion-feeling for one night, I'm pooped. 

"Are...you alright?" I ask, my hand going up to scratch the back of my neck. Your melancholy seems never-ending, so, to save both of us from another sob-story, I consider picking up the machete and ending your misery. That would be the sensible thing to do, right? Right? 

You shake your head, then throw it back and release a howl. Startled, I scrambled sideways like a crab until I'm crouching on the armrest of the couch. What the hell just happened? My eyes flit to the machete on the coffee table. It's a bit of a stretch from here, but if I could just—

"I miss him!" you wail in a voice so shrill, I think I feel blood trickling out of one of my ears. Nope, just ear-wax. 

"Miss who?"I yell back, nearly falling off my perch.

"Brandon!" This has turned into some sort of fucked up shouting contest, but it immediately disbands once you burst into tears again. 

"Brandon? I thought you guys were dating?" I have a knack for remembering the most useless pieces of information about people. This is one of them.

"Yes, b-but, he broke up w-with me a-and..."—you take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut. Poor baby. I wish I could relate to your suffering, but I can't.

"And, what did he do?" I ask, a different use for my brand new machete surfacing to mind. It's weird how affectionate I'm becoming towards you—you're like a fungal growth between someone's toes. You're smelly, revolting, but at the end of the day, keep your feet company. 

Your jaw clenches and you let out an earth-shattering sneeze, tossing snot all over the place. Good thing I'm outside of the impact radius, I think I saw the mucus on the floor move. I toss you a tissue box, and after blowing your nose like a trumpet, you continue your sob-story.

"And he started dating my best friend Jessica! Two days after the break-up! When I confronted him about it, he said that he had been...doing her for a while because I was a prude and wouldn't let on... I'm s-sorry I lied about it earlier...it's just so embarrassing I—"

I shush you by placing the blade of my machete against your lips. Frankly, I'm getting quite sick of all this crying, whining, and emotional BS, so I think I'll just cut to the chase. "Give me his address and number. I'll deal with him and his hoe."

The look on your face says it all. "Are you joking?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?" I give her the most serious face I can muster. Wait. That's my normal face.

You fractionally shake your head.

I grin and stick out my tongue. "Of course, I'm joking, silly billy. I'm not going to jail for some low-life. Instead, let me tell you a bit about my own experiences with exes. Would that make you feel better?"

You look unconvinced, so I reach underneath the couch and pull out a crusty looking chocolate chip cookie. "How about now?" I ask, waving it in the air like a stick. If I threw it across the room, would you scramble to retrieve it?

A smile cracks your porcelain mask and you reach out to it. "Gimme."

I hand it over without any complaints—you start nibbling on the expired piece of confectionary, and I realise just how great the sound of silence is. 

So, Xs. Or should I say, Ys?

For those of you who have been in relationships (1/10 recommend btw) who has had a nasty break-up experience?

*crickets chirp in the background*

A lot of you. I myself, despite being super awesome, have had some not-so-enjoyable experiences with exes, but nothing ever dramatic enough to have me filing a restraining order against any of them. Most of my relationships didn't work because I'm a heartless bitch, but that's a story for another time. Today's rant is yet another list (y'all love my lists, though, so it's all g) about the type of ex's I've either had or know of.

1. The Psychopath.

Lmao, it would've been too good to be true if I didn't start off this wonderful list with a psychopath. 

This ex is the type of person that doesn't take a break-up too well. Oh, who am I kidding. These people are psychotic. If you so much as dare to even think about leaving them, they'll sniff you out and turn into the Incredible Hulk. These are the people you see memes about all over the Internet—break up for whatever reason, and they'll either key your car, burn your house down, or kill your whole family. No in between. People like to joke about these (myself included), but these exes are dangerous, and their unnatural behaviour is not something to take lightly.

In fact, the other day, on the news, I saw a story about a man who was caught cheating on his girlfriend, got dumped by said girlfriend and went absolutely BERSERK. He tried to kill her THREE times for breaking up with him: the first time, he tried tampering with the gas pipes of her apartment (you know how in Italy people still use gas to heat up their stoves), the second time, I think he hired two men to try and assassinate her, whilst the third (and final) time, he threw acid on her face. The man was thrown in jail and the woman, luckily, survived, but unfortunately will have to live with a disfigured face for the rest of her life. Please don't play around with people like this—don't be afraid to get help asap, whether it be your friends and family, or a guy in uniform. 

2. Can We Still Be Friends? 

If you mutually end a relationship, on good terms, then it should be alright to remain friends with your ex, right? Wrong. I think it's dumb. I've tried doing it before, and it just doesn't work. Not because we kept crawling back to each other or anything, bitch nah. It's because eventually, you start drifting apart from one another. Now things obviously vary with each situation. If you share friends, workplace, whatever with an ex, the civilised thing to do would be to remain friends with them whilst trying, and sometimes failing, to forget about their signature bedroom move whenever the two of you make eye-contact. The last thing you want to do is make things awkward within your combined friendship group.

3. The One Who Got Away.

Well, if you watched Katy Perry's music video for the song, this one speaks for itself. This person is the one who you thought was THE one (but obviously they weren't if y'all broke up, so...). You met him/her on Tinder, sent each other nudes, banged like rabbits, and things only looked up from there. In only a week, you were already sharing your wedding plans, dream home, pets, and how many children you each wanted to have. 

But for one reason or another, things didn't exactly work out. Maybe they had a weird fetish, liked to fart in people's faces, or called your father a whore. Things happen, but when you're 105 and rocking back and forth surrounded by your grandchildren, your experiences make for a good story. As you adjust your dentures and let out a pensive sigh, you'll understand that the reason why you refer to your cats as grandchildren is because of the one that got away.

4. The Wattpad Teenfic Ex.

This bitch is a vindictive psycho that will do anything to ruin your chances with a new lover. They sit in the humid corner of their basement, staring up at their web of doodles and maps, whilst thinking about yet another creative away to mess with you. Because you were foolish enough to confide in them, they now use your deepest, dirtiest secrets as ammunition to shoot down potential partners. Get a life, m8.

5. I love you...and I miss you and—*whale noise* 

I'll just put this here :

https://youtu.be/aZPV4ewnW2s

These are the exes that just can't get over the loss. You were the biggest thing in their life. After they foolishly broke up with you, they realised how big of a mistake they had made and now desperately want you back. You are the salt to their pepper, the moon to their sun, the Nutella to their crêpes. Every time you run into them, they look at you with an afflicted face that puts Eeyore from Winnie The Pooh  to shame, their snapchat story is littered with videos of them using the 'crying' filter, and their FB statuses are all love quotes. Better not to lead these poor fools on—they need a lot of time to lick their wounds.

6. Friends with Benefits.

You all know what it is. There is a big difference between friends and friends with benefits, it's that small thing called sex. You may not have feelings for one another anymore, but you still can't get enough of each other. You're both single, lonely, and even though you don't want to share toothbrushes anymore, you still want to share the same bed sometimes. Not recommended if you're one to catch feelings again or if your ex was terrible in bed (or if they caught an STD).

7. RIP you will be missed.

I feel like this belongs under "the one that got away" but it isn't the same thing. It's much worse. This break-up leaves you an emotional wreck. Everywhere you turn, the memories of them and your time together haunt you. You look at a tree and cry, "They  used to have skin that rough and flaky!" or drink a glass of water and whine, "They used to drink water!" or look at a dumpster and scream, "They used to look like that!" You avoid them like the plague because a single look from them can send you sobbing in a corner with a bucket of ice-cream. You have to get a new social circle, avoid the same locations they go to, move to an entirely different city...it's messy, really. But you'll get over it.

8. The Ys as in Y did I ever date you?

(A/N: Should I include memes and vids [within reason] in my rants from now on? Tell me what you think) 

This is the biggest motherfucker on the face of the Earth. They tore your heart out of your chest, slammed it onto the ground, crushed it with their foot, and took a leak on it for good measure. These are the biggest, greatest douchebags in existence. You dedicated your life to making them happy, you gave up so much just to be with them, then they just turn around and cheat on you with your best friend. But you don't find out about this through a mutual friend, That wouldn't be as devastating. You find the two of them in your bedroom, going at it with the lights on, dancing La Cucaracha until either of them orgasms. Do you care about what happens to them once you kick their ass to the curb? Of course not. They could get hit by a meteor for all you care. 

-:-

I barely finish with my rant that you've already passed out, snoring like a grizzly bear. This makes me wonder about whether you've actually been listening to what I've been saying this whole time, or if you were sleeping with your eyes open. You have cookie crumbs all over your face and shirt, whilst the cookie itself rests on your lap, abandoned. My brows furrow. Maybe it was this that put you to sleep.

I lean forwards to take it and bring it up to my nose—a sniff tells me that the cookie has been tampered with. Suddenly, a flashback hits me.

Having the day off from work, I decided to invite my boyfriend over for a movie night. I hadn't seen him in over a week—both of us had been caught up with our respective jobs—and today, on a Friday, we coincidentally shared a day-off. I spent the majority of it cleaning the house and running errands, but the evening was reserved only for him. For bae. 

As I arrange all the DVDs on the coffee table, along with a massive bowl of buttery popcorn, I hear the doorbell ring. It must be him! I fluff my hair, pat my face to ensure that I didn't lose any pieces from the excitement, straighten the edges of my blouse and rush over to the front door. I pull it open to reveal my handsome boyfriend. With his unruly hair, leather jacket, and bright green orbs, he looks like an angel descended from heaven. I practically wet myself just looking at him. 

He's even more handsome now because of the plate of chocolate-chip cookies in his hands—he catches me eyeing them hungrily and says, "I made them myself." He tosses me a sexy smirk and I almost faint. He's so beautiful. I don't deserve him.

After exchanging Mature-rated kisses, I invite him in and we both settle down on the couch. We bicker over what movie to watch, but once that's done, we cuddle up to one another and start watching it. As I'm stuffing my face with popcorn—I'm a greedy slob and have to get the most handfuls in—I feel him running his hand up my back. With popcorn still in my mouth, and snap my head towards him and give him 'the look'. He knows that my virginity is reserved for the Lord, I've told him a thousand times! 

He shrugs with an innocent grin, retracts his hand, then shifts his focus to the movie again. "You haven't tried any of my cookies yet," he says, casually, and I find myself looking over at the untouched plate. He's right, but I don't like mixing snacks. It's unhealthy.

"I'll eat them later," I say, and continue to shovel popcorn into my mouth—I practically choke when Jackie Chan backflips and kicks five guys in the face. He's so fucking good. I wish I could fight like that.

"Come on, later they'll be rock hard and they won't be as good anymore." 

I feel his breath against my neck and a shiver runs up my spine. "Why are you insisting so much?" I ask him, suddenly feeling hungry for something other than popcorn. I chastise myself for having these sinful thoughts and pinch my forearm.

"Because..."—his hand is on my thigh now—"I made them just for you." 

Damn son, they're just a bunch of cookies, I want to say, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Luckily, Jackie Chan says something funny and I burst into laughter, destroying the sexual tension between us. You scoff and stand up, claim that I'm incorrigible, then march towards the bathroom. 

I calm down and look at those cookies, not understanding why he wants me to eat them so bad. Suspicious as hell, I inch towards them, unwrap the plate and pick one up. I inspect it with a critical eye, checking for an abnormal texture, consistency, color—I bring it up to my nose. It smells like weed.

The Devil's lettuce. 

I toss the cookie underneath the couch just as he returns from his year-old trip to the bathroom. I don't break character throughout the rest of the evening, but the next day, he's gone from my life.

Literally. 

🍟🍟🍟

Is there something that you're itching to complain about, but have the good sense not to do so on a public forum? I can do it for you! Feel free to PM me with the topic you want me to rant about, and I won't think twice before adding it here. I'll be waiting!