* Stop calling me. Stop texting me. I don't want to know you anymore. Everytime my life falls apart, you disappear. Frankly, I can't do this anymore.
* That goes for you, too.
* You don't own me. You never did. And you never wanted to accept what I had to offer, so stop getting all pissy any time I talk about a girl who isn't you. I'm allowed to move on. I'm allowed to go with other women. And to be perfectly honest, we never had a relationship in the first place, so what are you so butt-hurt about?
* Stop following me everywhere I go. Because of you, I had to privatize my Brightkite account. Thanks a lot, you crazy bitch.
* I don't care that you know people. No one does. So stop perseverating on how many times you fucked so and so and how you ran into so and so at whatever stupid fucking function you were at. No one is impressed.
* Stop being a creepy pervert, you creepy pervert. Memory lapses are not an excuse!
* Could you, in the future, please refrain from winking at me every five seconds? It's, ah, disconcerting.
* Why are you so terrified of commitment? I have to walk on eggshells every time I'm around you, lest you get freaked out and never talk to me again. And you wonder why I'm so timid about "making a move?"
* What's with all the falling for butt-ugly guys who are as interesting as Saw V and ignoring everyone else in your life? It's getting old and you're too fucking beautiful for that.
* Are you into me or not? These occasional bouts of flirting and subversive wordplay have me utterly confused. I've liked you for a long time. Show me the real you. Please.