Because This Makes Me ANGRY, Rambling

The Bridge to Hate

This is the final blog post about my break-up. I promise.


I think that if I had the musical talent to do so, I would have made a break-up album that would’ve made Adele’s 21 look like a joyful celebration. Thank God I don’t.


As everyone remotely involved in my life knows, I went through one bitch of a heartbreak last year. I always knew that I would be a bad candidate for such a thing, but WOW. I pretty much went crazy. I told the story so many times that I’m sick of it. It was the typical gay scenario. We fell in love, or at least I did. Only for him to turn around and say that his religion didn’t condone it.


I knew that this wasn’t the truth. I even told him so. I believe that he just didn’t want me around anymore. The problem was that I still loved him. This love was eating away at me like some terrible parasite.


I knew that it would only be a matter of time before it would happen. I bided my time and, sure enough, he surfaced on Grindr. When I asked him why he was there he told me that it’s a good place to network his business.

More bullshit.

Grindr isn’t LinkedIn. You don’t go there to promote your business; especially not with a picture of your face and your own name as the profile name.

After a short conversation, I realized that I was going to end up being horrible, so I blocked him.

But I wasn’t done.

I downloaded Tinder and checked. It wasn’t long before I found him. Now, you would have to be an absolute imbecile to believe that someone was promoting his business on two dating apps that were clearly not intended for this purpose.

It was a strange feeling. On the one hand the Capricorn in me was glad to be right about him lying to me. But more than that, I became incensed. He lied, he lied, he lied to me. I finally understood how people can cross the bridge between love and hate. I never understood it before, but I do now. I wanted to drive to his house and smash his already fucked up car with a baseball bat. It already looks so bad that he probably wouldn’t notice the difference. I wanted to hurt him so badly that all the love I ever felt for him caught fire and went up in smoke.

I had been dreading taking care of the house I took care of the year before when our romance started, but when I got there I felt nothing. Each time a slight memory of him flickered up I would mutter “fuck you” under my breath. My anger had finally set me free.


When you cross the bridge to hate, you can’t stay there. You either end up doing something stupid with that hate, or it consumes and destroys you. Either way, you can’t stay. As with most things in life, the dust settled and my hate dissipated. I don’t hate him. And if I ever truly did, it was just at the peak of my anger. But I also don’t love him anymore. I don’t want to see him. I don’t miss him. But like Adele, I wish nothing but the best for him too.

I say this because I know that he can’t stand Adele.

So, hello from the other side, bitch.


“True love is boring.” ~ Stephen King


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