Why do I have to look like absolute shit every time I run into an ex?
My dream is to bump into an ex girlfriend at some formal event where I’m in a suit, looking sharp, hair did, holding a high ball of scotch, with a better looking girl on my arm; and when she asks me how I am doing, I will respond, “Great, thanks. If I were doing any better, I’d be two people!”
Reality:
I end up seeing them on a day where I’ve decided to forego a shower, am wearing the same clothes I had on the night before and have taken a midday nap responsible for a greasy, unflattering quaff of hair and Vince Vaughn eyes.
One day…one day.
the self-hating hipster 
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