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"  Here&amp;#039;s a confession you won&amp;#039;t often hear from a well-educated, upper-middle class woman, raised in the Northeast during an era when crime was relatively under control: My ex-boyfriend went to jail.  Furthermore, the cherry on this sundae is that I can finally admit that deep down, a part of me relished in it after the fact. Yes, it&amp;#039;s sick. It&amp;#039;s actually down-right f*cked up. Who takes satisfaction in someone being behind bars? Someone who got her ass dumped by the perp\u2014that&amp;#039;s who.  Yeah, this is an extreme case (not everyone has a drug-peddling ex who ends up doing time in a minimum security prison), but there&amp;#039;s a kernel of common ground here all women can relate to: Whether or not we want to admit it, we all want our exes to end up worse off after our breakups. Not losing his penis in a tragic fly-fishing accident bad, but a Jackass-style junk-area injury isn&amp;#039;t too much to wish for, IMHO. And if not, well, congratulations on your sainthood.  At first, I didn&amp;#039;t realize I even possessed this spiteful streak. But then, how could I? My tendency to be drawn to drug addicts (that, I realize, is a whole other issue) and natural-born-failures again and again didn&amp;#039;t/doesn&amp;#039;t permit me to see that the reason every guy was worse off without me was because they weren&amp;#039;t much better off to begin with.  It wasn&amp;#039;t &amp;#039;til I actually dated someone who ended up being ambitious and talented (who saw that one coming?) that I could see the problem in my troublesome pattern.  &amp;quot;He&amp;#039;s doing what now?!&amp;quot; I bellowed over the phone at a friend. I could feel my blood boiling, as I pictured my now super-successful ex and I rolling around on the grass innocently discussing our futures, when we dated a decade ago...for about five minutes. Regardless, I was annoyed. Didn&amp;#039;t he know that all my exes&amp;#039; lives were supposed to sink quicker than the Titantic after we broke-up, or that they were destined to just disappear completely? There were no other options. Apparently, however, he missed my memo, skipped the cocaine addiction like all the other winners, and decided to turn out great.  So, this leaves me wondering: Are we really all just a bunch of spiteful beyotches when it comes to wanting our past exes to crash and burn? Well, yes and no. I&amp;#039;ve finally gotten over the whole none-of-my-exes-can-be-successful thing, but only by embracing a newfound friendship with the long-ago now-killing-it ex (and discovered that he is pretty f-ing awesome\u2014who knew?! Well, a lot of people, probably. I was just too short-sighted to be one of them).  As for the jailbird, well both of us have found the women of our dreams: For him, it&amp;#039;s my ex-best friend... The two are engaged to be married (Did I forget to mention that earlier?), although no word on whether he&amp;#039;ll be wearing stripes. Or an orange jumpsuit.  For me, it&amp;#039;s my kickass literary agent. Considering my ex&amp;#039;s track record with women and commitment, my agent and I will probably have a longer and more successful union than him and his soon-to-be wife. Then again, that could just be my spiteful streak rearing it&amp;#039;s ugly head. But cut me a little slack... this time.  Want more stories from Carson? Follow her on Twitter. Photo Credit: Getty Images "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/news/a12869/happy-about-ex-failure/>