For whatever reason I haven’t been able to comprehend yet, I decided to write you first.
I mean, I don’t miss you – at least not anymore. I do not.
Remember how we met? That evening when you met me up at Sharon’s place for a hookup, a moment of intimacy which you decided to extend into something steady with the “relationship” tag you put on it?
You were sweet. In your way, you were. But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You had let trust issues get in the way of something that would have blossomed into a beautiful relationship. I trusted you. I trusted you too much and that was my mistake. I wish you’d told me you just wanted to be fuck-buddies. With a hot body like that and lips stained in blood that you softly bit every time you moaned my name, God knows I would have totally been down with that.
But you lied, saying you wanted a relationship. Why? Did you think that was what I wanted to hear from you? Did you think I’d want to be a boyfriend before agreeing to have steady sex with you?
No one deserves to be lied to. It took a lot to get over the fact that you led me on for two months, started sexting my roommate, later went on to start fucking him, and ended things with me in the third month when your “distraction” had taken over you.
I wasn’t the best lover, but I was damn good enough for you. I can say that now that I’ve sat myself down to properly assess all the shit I took from you.
Like I said at the beginning of my letter, I do not miss you anymore. You were a lesson I had to learn the hard way. Now I know I will never give myself to a man who has not loved himself enough to love me, because he would still not be satisfied, no matter what I do.
I hope you learned your lesson too. I hope you’re loving yourself enough to be honest about what you want to yourself and to any other man you may want to get involved with.
I wish you have the best life.