We all get them. We all occasionally (usually drunk) send them. Sometimes they make us laugh, make our heart skip a beat, make us nervous, or just plain pissed. I am talking about the out-of-the-blue, for-no-good-reason, totally random texts from an ex. Sometimes it’s more than a text. It could be an email, or worse, a voicemail.

It seems that no man can really call it quits with me, even when I get dumped because I did something wrong. Even if I did something really wrong. Ryan and I began our breakup rather civilly. I knew I had screwed up big time. However, we all screw up big time. We’re people. We are imperfect creatures who give in to our animalistic desires, even when we know we shouldn’t.

Ryan prides himself on being “perfect.” He did not drink, smoke, or take any risks whatsoever. Though he wasn’t that way when we first met, by the time he decided to turn his life around, I was already committed. So when I made a big “boo boo” at my friend’s party, he promptly moved out. He didn’t want to know who, or how much we did, or why. He just said, “Sorry, your behavior was the ultimate deal breaker.” I accepted this fact and we agreed to remain friends. Well, we tried to remain friends.

He called on my birthday, and in typical Ryan fashion, he was proper and cold and spoke to me like a co-worker:“Happy birthday. Be safe. How is your mom?” Boring. I really didn’t want a phone call from him on my birthday. That’s just too much to think about. I then had to call him on his birthday (which is only three days later), because I didn’t want to appear rude. Somehow we got on the wrong subject, and before long we were screaming at one another. When you date someone for long enough, you learn exactly what buttons to push in order to get a rise out of them. He was pushing every button of mine imaginable, and I was steaming. Finally, I said the one thing you’re never supposed to say to a man: “Ryan, you were a selfish boyfriend, you didn’t like to fuck, and you have a small penis.” Then I hung up.

Ten minutes later. Yes, it took him ten minutes to call me back and say “Sticky, I don’t have a small dick, you have a big vagina.” Now, knowing Ryan, he was floored when I put his manhood into question, and surely went right to the internet to Google the appropriate come back. When he said that, I couldn’t help but laugh. Not only did I laugh, I laughed hysterically! He was silent on the other end of the phone and after a few moments, he hung up without a word.

Flash forward to yesterday. While at the office, I received a text from Ryan. It said “Hey. Just wanted to hit you up and see how you were. I don’t want any bad blood between us. I’m over what happened and I hope you are too.” That was nice. But why? Then I began to think about all of my exes, and the legacy they each attempted to leave behind. I guess Ryan didn’t want our last conversation to be remembered at the “small dick, big vagina” dialogue.

Then there’s terrible ex-boyfriend extraordinaire Jack. We all have the one ex who is just worse than the lot – that’s him. I received a text from him on my last birthday. I never responded and have since changed my number. When we finally broke up years ago there was a time period when I would receive these really special voicemails from him in the middle of the night. There was one in particular, my favorite actually, in which he stated “Sticky, I have fucked six other girls since you and all of them had a tighter pussy.” The same line as Ryan but a better delivery. I sent him his own voicemail the next day (which is something you can do… who knew?) when I knew he would be sober. He quickly sent me a text saying “I am so sorry. I am a monster when I drink. I didn’t mean any of the things I said.”

So I guess men think criticizing a woman’s vagina is the same as a woman criticizing a man’s dick. It is NOT the same. Unless a woman has had a few children, there is no way a pussy can be “loose.” And yes, it is true that no vagina is the same and some, I’m sure, are tighter than others, but I really believe that a pussy, is a pussy, is a pussy. Yes, two men have implied that I have a loose vagina, but what about the dozens of men who have said the exact opposite? Or better yet, what about the lovely men who have told me “No woman has been able to make me cum twice. You have the most amazing pussy.” This leads me to lean more towards my theory. End of story.

Fuck Ryan for being Mr. “Perfect All the Time.” I prefer imperfect. He’s a fucking robot. And I meant what I said. He was a selfish boyfriend who didn’t like to fuck enough for my liking and his penis, while average, was nothing to write home about. Jacl on the other hand… that man has bragging rights.