The most fun I ever had with the ex

I celebrated my birthday early this past Saturday night with a small group of friends at a semi-quiet bar. My friend Tim made flashcardsof my ex, highlighting my ex's finer points: lack of talent, lack of humor, ample body fat, a shocking amount of body hair, etc. Then three of my friends presented me with the ex action figure: an exceptionally hairy and chubby wrestler outfitted in traditional ex attire who came with accessories: glasses, body pillow, wallet chain. We then took turns knocking him over with a pool cue and ball. We also tossed him against the table, against the wall, into the fish tank . . . he also took it up the ass from Sgt. Slaughter, another action figure gift. All of these things brought me nothing but joy. The difference between this ex and the "Real" ex? He was fun. Funny. Able to take a joke. Didn't crap his pants in social situations. Didn't overeat. Didn't overdrink. Didn't talk in a highly annoying "baby" voice. Didn't smoke. Didn't do mediocre standup. This ex I like. This ex makes me laugh. I would introduce this ex to my dad. My friends like this ex. Oh, and he doesn't have a pear-shaped body, a huge bush and child-bearing hips.