To All The Boys I’ve Loved (Entry 8)

Dear Baggz,

You were my fantasy. Meeting you was magical. I still remember that night, on your birthday. How you freaked out when you stepped into a roomful of smiling faces that screamed “Happy Birthday!” Across the room, you caught my eye instantly. I remember how you held my gaze as I said “Happy birthday” to you as we shook hands. You were so cute. And who in the world replies a “Happy birthday” wish with “Same to you?”

When we started dating, I was into you more than you were into me. But that didn’t change anything. I guess why I didn’t see anything really wrong with such lopsided dynamics in our relationship was because I’d always believed one was always bound to do more than the other in an ideal relationship. Whether I was wrong or right to think like that didn’t matter, because you were anything but ideal for me.

I no longer listen to Christina Aguilera’s Bound To You – not when it reminds me of the many times you played with my fingers while looking me in the eye, my essence all wrapped up in you, as you sang the lyrics to me. I cannot listen to the song because I don’t want to remember.

I remember the way you wouldn’t get over the fact that I kissed Lee. As much as I have tried to feel guilty about what I did, I don’t and I probably never will. What you did that night was the last straw. That wasn’t the first time you had tried forcing us into a threesome, even though you knew how much I hated that. It started to feel like you couldn’t touch me or make love to me without someone else in the room, on our bed, sharing your body with me. I suppose I kissed Lee that night that you brought him over as an act of rebellion, a way to tell you that I knew about all the other boys you didn’t bring into our bed, boys who got a taste of your loving, boys you didn’t want me to know about.

It was over between us before we ever truly started. And when we officially split up, I was broken up for a long time. I didn’t realise I made so many excuses for you because I felt insecure. Now I can admit that I was. I was very insecure about you. I should’ve never entertained the thought of dating you after that night of your birthday. But then, I blame the 22-year-old baby gay that was me, who felt that one night of mind-blowing sex with you meant he’d found the love of his life.

I started to live again when Sharon and Pat nursed my broken heart, as I soaked my pillow with tears each time I was confronted with the fact I had not gotten over you. I resented you many times after our breakup. Especially when you’d waltz into my DM to ask for favours. Like, how dare you? It was very insensitive of you. I’m glad you had decency to unfollow me on social media when you did. I’d always thought it best to cut off all links that bind us; but it was hard, especially considering the fact that we have so many friends in common.

I hope you finally got the big break you’d always anticipated. I hope you’re having the best life.

And please, when next you meet someone who gives you all of their heart, be sure not to fuck it up.

Goodbye, Baggz.

Olly.