I cooked your favourite breakfast this morning. The one I used to make for you at 4am in the days when you still loved me. And trust me, I loved you back, because waking up at 4am is something I wouldn’t do for anybody in those days.
You will never find another girl who will do such things for you.
You will never find another girl who will stroke your face for hours until you fall asleep, and cuddle you through your nightmares.
You will never find another girl who will sit with you in the toilet and sing songs by The Beatles, while you throw up copious amounts of Jagermeister.
You will never find another girl who will accompany you on shitty jobs, only to be left sitting in the van for two hours and listening to the sound of the traffic.
You will never find another girl who clicks with your nephews the way that I do, who will take them swimming and bowling and golfing and skateboarding, who will spend her last penny on their happiness.
You will never find another girl who cares about literature, and politics, and art history, and travel, and global affairs.
The next girl that you fall for will be brain-dead, a carbon copy of all the others before me, with big breasts and an empty personality, who won’t give a shit about your granddad’s birthday or your mother’s plans for a career change. She won’t give a flying fuck about your job, your dreams, your aspirations. All she’ll care about it your wallet and your dick size. Best of luck with that, sweetheart.
I’m not bitter or anything…