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In the immediate aftermath of my first breakup, I was a bit bummed and also pissed off. But within a day or so, I was really, really happy about it.
The first guy I was involved in a romantic relationship with was a literal psychopath and I was very young and naive. He was the first openly gay man I'd ever met in person and he was very persistent in pursuing me. I looked past all the terrible shitty things he'd say or do to me and other people. Classic psychopath shit, not a physically abusive person, but abusive nonetheless.
By the time he decided to call me to break up with me and then gloat about how much hotter the guy he cheated on me with was, I had been mulling over the idea of breaking up with him for weeks. I just didn't know the right way to go about it.
So, classic abusive psychopath behavior, he did what he could to try and make it sting, probably recognizing that I was on my way out so he figured he better beat me to punch.
The sting didn't last long. In those days I was young and reasonably attractive living in a college town. In less than a day, it was practically raining men. Hallelujah. Raining men. Amen.