Ashley Coleman

I don’t usually write these. I’m a “let it go and move on” kind of person. But Ashley Coleman pushed me past my limit. She came over for what was supposed to be a cozy movie night. Within two minutes, she was judging my spice rack. Not, like, jokingly—she literally reorganized it alphabetically and told me, “This reflects a lot about your inner chaos.” Then she started adjusting the angle of my lamp. Not kidding.
Over the next two hours, she critiqued my art, insulted my couch (“too Ikea-vibe”), told me I chew wrong, and managed to bring up her ex-fiancé (the “psycho dentist”) multiple times. When I gently said I wasn’t feeling a spark, she told me I had “unhealed masculine wounding” and left in a weird huff. I’m still afraid she cursed my coriander. 0/10, would not recommend.