High school is the best time of your life. You think your friends will actually be your friends forever, and you think you’ll marry the amazing man you’re dating your senior year. For some people, that might be the case. But for the rest of us, adulthood ends up being mediocre. Your friends don’t get to see you eight hours a day for five days a week, and for some reason don’t invite you to the happy hours you see they all attend. Your high school boyfriend dumps you so he can go to college on the other side of the country. Adult interactions are scary and difficult, so instead you just replay the greatest hits from your childhood in your head.
Anyway. So you thought you’d marry your high school boyfriend. I know for a fact you fantasized about your wedding, because that is what all teenage girls do. I know this, because I am a senior in college now, with many years of life experience. But guess what, bitch: you weren’t right for him.
I wish I could say I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m not. He is mine now. And I know that you, years after breaking up, are still sitting around thinking about him. Probably while you watch your high school friends’ Snapchat stories, because thinking about my man is more fun than wondering why your friends don’t invite you out anymore. You might eventually find someone, but I’m glad MY boyfriend wasn’t the right one. Because now he is mine, because you were a garbage girlfriend.
This is going to be really surprising, but sometimes I have issues with jealousy. I know I hide it very well, but I am opening up to you. This public letter to my boyfriend’s high school girlfriend is a reflection of how normal I am. Everyone does this. Anyway you fucking bitch, did you even appreciate prom with my boyfriend? I BET YOU DIDN’T. I would have appreciated him. It kills me I couldn’t be there. Watching you two from afar. Waiting for you to go to the bathroom, or to sneak off in the corner with one of your friends for some gossip. I could have swooped in and shown him my love is the purest of loves, unlike yours.
I hate that the only opportunity one has to dress up in life is prom. Adults have no friends or events, so now I will die without a chance to dress up for my love. And you, you selfish bitch, he got to see you dressed up.
I actually never went to prom, because I didn’t really know anyone in high school. I tried to show up at people’s houses unannounced so that we could totally be besties, and so I could make sure no one who was my friend was hanging out with that bitch Julia who was a year younger but so mean, but everyone in my hometown is really rude and no one ever opened their doors. I would take my friends’ phones and see if they had been texting Julia, because she was such a bitch, and once I saw my friend Chelsea had prom dress shopping pictures on her phone. Turns out Chelsea had been dress shopping with fucking Julia, so I threw her phone across the room into a wall.
But anyway. Chelsea’s pictures looked like a lot of fun, at least before I shattered her phone. All the brightly colored prom dresses. All the planning and giggling. All the friendships. I’m sure you had a lot of fun picking out his tux to match your dress. You did a horrible fucking job, by the way. Just like you did a bad job being a girlfriend.
I find myself getting jealous, but then I stop. I used to do really weird and crazy shit when I was jealous, but now I am a perfect beacon of whatever the opposite of jealousy is. I remind myself how you are a stupid slut, and I get to match his tux to my WEDDING DRESS. And I won’t be using the ugly color scheme you used, because I have taste and class. And I remind myself that, years ago, he ditched your sorry ass. And now I will love him forever and ever. And he will love me. He will love me with every breath he takes, until he dies.
I try not to get jealous of your childhood experiences with him, because that would weird and you are in the past. You had your time, defiling my beautiful man, and now you are GONE. You got to dress up for prom with him, and now I get to dress up with him for my wedding, which I am sure is happening. He may have put a corsage on your wrist, but
if you come near him ever again, I will be putting a knife in the same spot he put a ring on my finger.
This is a parody of the very reasonable article, You May Have Worn the Prom Dress with Him, but I get to Wear the Wedding Dress