This, right here, is the definition of irony. You complain about how your ex is talking shit about you on social media websites, and then you go ahead and do the same thing. You’re no better than him, sorry sweetie.
She and I dated the same boy by the sounds of it. In fact, all of that sounds scarily accurate, like I could have written that.
Except you don’t do that via the internet. You crack open a bottle of wine (or rum) with your friends, bitch it out, cry for a bit, then end up singing songs from your youth. I’m shocked she didn’t say he had a tiny penis.