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As sad as it is, there is something so comforting about recycling boyfriends. Especially when they are naughty, haughty boys.
Now don't get me wrong, I didn't suggest a scandalous guy for a friend.
She went out with him without any involvement on my part.
So she comes to my apt for an ice cream, liquor party and she hates the guy.
And she screams at him. Well, not really at him, because he isn't there.
She is technically screaming at me. But I don't care. I let her.
I understand her one thousand percent.
She is upset he told her they could be friends.
And I know this, I know the patterns.
It is scary almost freaky...
But also pretty cool.
It reaffirms in my head a million times that it had nothing to do with me and all to do with him.
People get over it. It takes time but it happens eventually.
So what I think is that people who dated the same person and did not end up in marriage should form ex-coalitions and support groups for survivors of Guy X.
