This Season We Give You the Gift of Rage: Letters to Your Asshole Ex

Nothing makes you feel worse about being single than good ole-fashioned holiday cheer. And you've entered that period punctuated by a series of holidays whose sole purpose, it can seem, is to remind you of your romantic deficiency: the Christmas-New Year's Eve-Valentine's Day triumvirate. Times like these, you may get extremely maudlin, nostalgic and lonely, and it will be natural for you to want to reach out on any of these emotion-laden days. Do not — we repeat — do not do this.

Let's take New Year's Eve: arguably the worst of the three and the one most likely have you sexting, "U around? Cum over." Maybe you'll want to snuggle up with that formerly special someone and watch the ball drop. Maybe you'll want to turn to your ex at midnight and kiss in the New Year. Maybe, on New Year's Day, you'll want to sip hot cocoa and walk, holding hands, in the snow. But resist. Remind yourself of why your ex is your ex. Maybe he* had an irrational fear of neediness that can be attributed to, but in no way justified by his problematic (to be charitable) relationship with his mother and would never get off his ass to make the two of you hot cocoa. Or maybe he would, but then silently resent you for the huge endeavor that is microwaving. Maybe, because of a sudden vain obsession with working out, that can be attributed to, but in no way justified by his childhood chubbiness, he would have turned a hand-holding stroll into solo jog, the mileage of which he would have reported on Facebook AND Twitter. Twitter? Really? Speaking of the interwebs, maybe the way he broke up with you was so inhumane, it's reason enough to not be with him. These are purely hypothetical situations, of course. And the creativity of assholes knows no bounds, so, of course, choose your own douche-bag-based adventure.

Now I've got you worked up. Now you want to contact him just to get some shit off your chest. But don't. Because you will undoubtedly regret exposing yourself to his response, or, perhaps even worse, non-response. But don't worry. I'm not here to lecture you and leave you with a serious case of Auld Lang Syne emotional blue balls. There is a way you can achieve catharsis without remorse. And no, I'm not suggesting you write everything you want to tell him only to e-mail it to yourself or a friend. What's the fun of that? Instead, write it here! below, in the comments. Don't name him, that's inappropes and the whole point is you want to do this for yourself and by yourself, in front of thousands of readers, but not for him.

*As a tragically heterosexual monogamous female, I will refer to the person in question as a "he." I went to Wesleyan and am well aware of the fact that labels are for jars. So please replace with the gender(s) or non-genders of your choice.