You cared more about your job than me.
Your last name was Cat. I mean…seriously? I had always wanted one of those family plaques that you can hang next to the main door, but i can tell you two things: I won’t change my last name and that family plaque won’t say The Cats. And that’s why we broke up.
You’re seventeen years old and you spelled “feel” as “fill.”
You gave me a pair of earrings and then asked for them back, and that’s why we broke up.
We broke up because you left the price sticker on my Valentine’s Day gift so I would know how much money you’d spent on me.
You saw my Mensa magazine at my apartment, then spent twenty minutes explaining that I’m not as smart as I think I am because I don’t have to work hard.
We broke up because you tipped less than 10%.
You thought shaving the hair off one side of your head was a good look.
Everyday, you would come home from work. Instead of giving me a kiss, you would rush to turn on your computer game.