Last night I was calmly standing on line to buy embarrassing things -- which, btw, is why I was using the SELF-checkout: so no one has to see me holding a tub of feminine products -- when the evening got exponentially more mortifying. (BTW, who names the drugstore products that are so embarrassing you can't even buy them? HERPECIN, VAGISIL, LiceX, and ANUSOL?? I have always wondered how those board meetings go.)
Anyway, so what is more awesome than spending your Friday night in a drugstore buying feminine supplies?
BUTT-DIALING THE EX YOU ARE AVOIDING WHILE YOU ARE BUYING FEMININE SUPPLIES.
I was scanning my items when I heard this distant mumbling and realized oh that's my PHONE.... and then I realized I had butt-dialed him. FUCK! We're not supposed to be talking!
I hung up immediately and texted an explanation so I could interrupt him having sex* to explain haha, isn't life funny, I am really not stalking you -- that whole thing where you just heard me scanning a box of extra large overnight pads with wings, that was unintentional, really. Pinky-swear!
*yes, he was having sex, I am sure of it, because once partners become exes, their lives become one big giant orgy where not only are you not invited, but it is a well-known scientific fact that the need for sleeping, eating or working is replaced with the need for sex with people who are not you.