To the Douchelords I've Dated.

Some may say that “douche” (bag or lord) is a vaguely sexist insult. But I think it’s perfect: an outdated tool that’s probably bad for my health, and that I’ll never allow near my vagina again.

You’re not mysterious.

I told all my friends that you were “complicated” and “troubled” and “just busy with work right now.” Yeah, no, turns out you’re just a cruel clown.

It’s not me, it’s you.

Remember all those times you told me I was “too sensitive” or “crazy”? And how I wasn’t supposed to *define* our relationship or make you *commit*, but I also wasn’t supposed to talk to other guys? And how you told me you had a complicated past, and that’s why I couldn’t meet your friends? And why you needed to “hang out” with so many other girls?

I’m sorry for all the times I ever apologized to you.

How was I always apologizing to you, somehow? And making excuses for you. And scheduling my life around your web of lies.

I apologized for “being clingy” every time you blew me off. I apologized for “nagging you” about that girl who turned out to be way more than “just a friend.” Dude, I may have even apologized for apologizing too much.

And you know what? I am sorry. I’m sorry that you don’t get to date me anymore.

But I’m probably stronger for putting up with you.

Yes, I regret every moment we ever spent together. But I have to admit that your miserable existence isn’t totally useless. You made me wildly unhappy at the time, but you also made me realize that I deserve better.

Now I know not to waste my time on liars and cheats. Ok, maybe it took me one or two (or three) douchelords to fully digest that point, but there are just so many flavors of heartless douche out there! (Is there something about me that screams, “Please manipulate me”?) But once I finally detached your poisonous douche tentacles from my brain, my life got so much better.

So thank you, douchelord exes, for making sure I’ll never date anyone like you ever again.