He had become an outcast and yet he was still blaming others for his actions.
This was the man who had pursued so many girls, fucked them like they were some kind of toy and then expected them to still be his friend.
I should have been suspicious from the start when he said he didn’t need friends. If he kept treating people like this it was no wonder he had none.
Oh, my friends had tried to warn me but A. I was stubborn and never listened to anyone and B. I liked to try and see and indeed believe in the good in people.
I could now see there was no good in him at all.
I wasn’t sad that we’d broken up. Why be sad or lose tears for someone who wasn’t worth it? Karma was going to serve him the biggest dose ever and I was looking forward to his downfall.
I’d never been a vindictive person; I’m the kind who gives multiples chances long after I should but that I guess is a good fault in a way. God knows I’d given him more than enough.
He was, to put itbluntly, a fucked-up piece of shit who needed to sort himself out and stop running away from his issues and difficult questions and situations. He was arrogant, selfish and completely unaware of anything or anyone around him. I had to wonder now whether the stories about his ex-wife were true or were just some twisted version of his. I suspected it was the latter.
All I knew was that I was stress-free and happy for the first time in months. I’d told him that I would never talk to him again and he wasn’t to look at me or touch me. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was capable of doing to him if he did. I think I’d reached ‘arsehole saturation’ point and if he was at the receiving end of it, then God help him.
As far as I was concerned his very existence had been wiped from the face of the earth. He was an outcast indeed.