Lenore Price
Aug 29, 2017 · 1 min read

I was once in a relationship with a guy who didn’t miss me until he found out he couldn’t get better. We didn’t love each other, no matter how many times we tried to make ourselves believe we did, but we stayed together because the outside world seemed so hard to conquer alone.

His family thought I was an unattractive, inbred redneck. Mine thought he was the type of guy who would live in his mother’s basement for the rest of his pathetic, miserable life (their words, not mine). However, by the time we passed the four year mark, both our families had resigned themselves to the idea that we would get married one day. Four years isn’t nothing when you’re both teenagers, right?

Except, as it turns out, it was “nothing”. I left him when I went off to college and chose people who knew better than to limit me. He tried, unsuccessfully, to date “better” women, then settled for someone who was somehow even less popular with his family than me. (Again: His words, not mine.) I married a wonderful man who supports me in my endeavors and takes care of our family, which I don’t think I could have ever said about him.

I wish my ex and his wife the best, but honestly, I think that poor girl would be better off with someone who doesn’t send his high-school ex love letters every month. (He keeps getting my email. It’s annoying. :/)

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    Lenore Price

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    Mid-20s. Female. Owns cats. LGBT. Jewish. Loves to write. Married. As you can tell, I'm a Hufflepuff.