§ You don't remember my name
§ You never return my phone calls, emails or car
§ You ran up $253,117 on my credit card
§ In public you refer to me as "that girl I'd never do"
§ I don't find the way you flirt with other women to be coy and playful anymore
§ I don't find the way you bring them home to be "hard to get" anymore
§ In the last love song you wrote for me you used the word "nag" 12 times and the phrase "die bitch" 7 times
§ You called the Dutch stupid
§ You said I have skin like milk, that was stored in the sun
§ You refer to my breasts as "the only reasons I stick around"
§ I don't consider hair-pulling a form of foreplay
§ You shot my dog
§ You've tried numerous times to poison me
§ You're going to prison, again
§ You're sleeping with your best friend's wife
§ I'm your best friend's wife
§ You stretch out my sweaters when you wear them
§ You dropped me from your "Top 8" for Al Franken
§ You're the star of CSI: Miami, a role which you take way too seriously
§ I don't laugh at, "You still here?" anymore
§ I wouldn't call a car-bomb, "A little surprise"
§ You taught the parrot to say, "Get out, Bitch"
§ All those times I thought you were stealing glances at me, turns out you're cross-eyed
§ There's a hit man at my door
§ The last thing you tried to French kiss was the dog
§ The closest we've been to sex in months was the time you threw that bottle at me
§ I say, "I love you, " you say, "No hable Ingles"
§ You're always distant, like hundreds or thousands of miles away
§ You're marrying another guy just to make me jealous
§ I read too much into little signals you send, like time you tried to run me down with the car
§ You no longer communicate with me telepathically
§ My fear of commitment involves doctors and a hearing
§ When I say "Good morning," you say, "Not with you here."
§ You refuse to subscribe to my blog
§ I just answered your personal ad on Craigslist
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