(I can't help it, I'm still writing letters to this s.o.b. in my head.)

Dearest N.,

I'm going out tonight. Look, here is a photo of me looking good. I'm holding a martini glass and smiling from ear to ear because I am toasting to my new life without you.

I'm going to the places you and I used to visit. Yeah, I might think of you, but this time it won't be because I'm pining for you. It will be because I'm thanking my lucky stars that you're not here.

You treated me like a piece of shit. Well guess what? I am a fabulous woman. I'm caring and warm-hearted, don't you wish you could be too? I'm sweet and I can also be sexy. I'm a human being with flaws, don't you wish you could be too?

You really missed out, and you will keep missing out on the joy of real intimacy and connection for the rest of your life. I almost feel sorry for you. What makes me laugh is that I know what you are. Have you even figured yourself out yet? Your Dad is an effing psychiatrist, surely you both know?

Your tragic love life, your inability to have a lasting relationship, the problems you have with your superiors at work. It's all your own fault, nobody else's.

Did I say I don't hate you? I was lying. I hate you and you are a monster. I hate you more than you can imagine. I reject you, I despise you, I wish you nothing good. If you die a lonely old man (and I bet you do) it won't be my fault.

Are you kidding me that you think I'm going to come running back when you are in town? What reason could I possibly have to see you now that I know what you are? No reason whasoever. You can keep your sad, pathetic, miserable life to yourself. you can stay with her. I don't want you back.