So, me & my woman must have been together three, maybe four years. She was a looker, and righteous at that. Real salt of the earth type, her only glaring flaw being that her molars had become gnarled and blackened due to being cripplingly dependent on chowing down bag after bag of Maynard's Fuzzy Peaches.

Fast forward to three months ago, I'm working as the head chef of a local French/Greek restaurant, La Achilliserie de Bordeaux. My maitre'd decides to hire a new selection of waiters for our holiday season. One such individual we took on went by the name Carmelita, and at once I was smitten. Tried as I may have to think of my beloved, my heart had been whisked away as if it were a lump of flour in a batch of velouté.

As 27 days & nights rumbled on, Carmelita and I began to grow close. Oftentimes we would stay up in my office into the wee hours of the morning, playing hands of Texas Hold 'Em while imbibing ounces of Parisian Merlot by the dozen. One of these many nights, I told Carmelita of how my woman would come home late, her breath sickly sweet with the scent of Maynard's Fuzzy Peaches, and how I would simply roll over, acting as though I hadn't a clue she'd adventured to a Mac's Convenience in a stupor, and gobbled down as many of those orange nuggets of knowledge as they would sell her. The moment this escaped my lips, I knew I had to give her up.

The next day, I sat my woman down and told her the Good Lord was steering me in a new direction. While the ensuing fit of rage was nearly unbearable, the most horrifying part had to have been the shards of swamp-coloured plaque breaking off her teeth from the force of her words, burning towards my eyeballs with undying force. In terror, I simply fled, with nothing but my battered brown leather suitcase, haphazardly stuffed full of whatever clothing I could grab in thirty seconds.

That very evening I met with Carmelita. I told her of how I had ditched the demented harpy, and how the breadth of my lust's wind had compelled me to seek her out and ask her to be my wife.

Carmelita looked at me. At first emotionless, followed by confusion, which was then rapidly succeeded by disgust. "What makes you think I would want that? Knucklehead, we have only just become acquainted. Besides, you are hideous. I hate your skin. It is almost as if you are able to flare your pores as some can do with their nostrils, and you choose to do so constantly."

Shortly thereafter, I was fired from my job for harrassment of our female waitstaff. It was then I realized what a fool I had been. In my mind's eye I picture my Carmelita, from toes to bonkers, and only ask of myself: "How could you have been so buffoonish to believe a beast such as yourself could be worthy of such a prize?". I wrote my first draft of this on a tear-spattered Burger King application, and I pray to the Good Lord someone writes back.

Your story is filled with complexities and emotions. It seems like a journey of self-discovery, with valuable lessons learned along the way. Life's twists can be challenging, but they often pave the way for personal growth and understanding.

didn't read

get a better hair cut and hit the gym

bro broke up with his long term girlfriend over dental that could have been fixed at any moment and became a simp for another women in less than month that got him reported to Hr.

You deserve it and God had nothing to do with it - shame on you wasting that woman's life over something so f***ing stupid and then being delusional on top of it.

Keep making drafts in your self pity.

op ruined a perfectly good thing in his life and was also delusional on top of it

deserved

aight let me try again

@op

the way you even describe your girl of long term is nasty acting like having a sweet tooth of one snack is a death sentence that a dentist visit can easily fix - ooh no what a vice

f*** out of here

s*** made me a lil heated tbh

God will bring her a better man in her life that wont break up with her over a woman you barely know less than a month and s***ting on her for having a favorite snack

s*** is insane

bruh

Move this to Creative section

LMAO

hurt people hurt people - he should become a j cole fan and learn something

www.wattpad.com

All I gotta say is peach candy is good af

Op has a nasty spirit

damn

You freaked it

Nahh go to hell bruh. You deserve it.

And then you just go dump all this s*** on a girl youre barely acquainted with and tell her about your ex girl's "issue"

No wonder she didnt take it, you driopped someone for someone you barely knew and you dropped her for a petty reason that can easily be fixed - you think women dont pick up on that s*** and you think most women are happy to home wreckers? Then you pin it on God - nah God did them both a favor not you

LMAO

Niggas can have the world and still f*** it up

this go out to ops ex who hopefully finds a better man to knock her walls out

and it goes out to op and his self hate of his buck teeth because he obviously has a weird major hang up over teeth even tho his self is also f***ed up

DJ spin it a few times

Nah @OP you gotta eat that. Can’t always have it your way. Good luck at Burger King

You put too much pressure on Carmelita man… what was she supposed to do?

shockingly similar to my story @op

So, me & my woman must have been together three, maybe four years. She was a looker, and righteous at that. Real salt of the earth type, her only glaring flaw being that her molars had become gnarled and blackened due to being cripplingly dependent on chowing down bag after bag of Maynard's Fuzzy Peaches.
Fast forward to three months ago, I'm working as the head chef of a local French/Greek restaurant, La Achilliserie de Bordeaux. My maitre'd decides to hire a new selection of waiters for our holiday season. One such individual we took on went by the name Carmelita, and at once I was smitten. Tried as I may have to think of my beloved, my heart had been whisked away as if it were a lump of flour in a batch of velouté.
As 27 days & nights rumbled on, Carmelita and I began to grow close. Oftentimes we would stay up in my office into the wee hours of the morning, playing hands of Texas Hold 'Em while imbibing ounces of Parisian Merlot by the dozen. One of these many nights, I told Carmelita of how my woman would come home late, her breath sickly sweet with the scent of Maynard's Fuzzy Peaches, and how I would simply roll over, acting as though I hadn't a clue she'd adventured to a Mac's Convenience in a stupor, and gobbled down as many of those orange nuggets of knowledge as they would sell her. The moment this escaped my lips, I knew I had to give her up.
The next day, I sat my woman down and told her the Good Lord was steering me in a new direction. While the ensuing fit of rage was nearly unbearable, the most horrifying part had to have been the shards of swamp-coloured plaque breaking off her teeth from the force of her words, burning towards my eyeballs with undying force. In terror, I simply fled, with nothing but my battered brown leather suitcase, haphazardly stuffed full of whatever clothing I could grab in thirty seconds.
That very evening I met with Carmelita. I told her of how I had ditched the demented harpy, and how the breadth of my lust's wind had compelled me to seek her out and ask her to be my wife.
Carmelita looked at me. At first emotionless, followed by confusion, which was then rapidly succeeded by disgust. "What makes you think I would want that? Knucklehead, we have only just become acquainted. Besides, you are hideous. I hate your skin. It is almost as if you are able to flare your pores as some can do with their nostrils, and you choose to do so constantly."
Shortly thereafter, I was fired from my job for harrassment of our female waitstaff. It was then I realized what a fool I had been. In my mind's eye I picture my Carmelita, from toes to bonkers, and only ask of myself: "How could you have been so buffoonish to believe a beast such as yourself could be worthy of such a prize?". I wrote my first draft of this on a tear-spattered Burger King application, and I pray to the Good Lord someone writes back.

Damn y'all I may not have been a perfect replica of God's image in these moments but I attempt to reflect on my errors so I may rise above.... I seek not pity nor understanding, only an ear.