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Archive for November, 2011

These days it’s been for 2 years that I left you. It lasted for 4 years and you were my first real long-lasting relationship. I have a lot to thank you actually, despite the way I treated you – that I didn’t realize the weight of my deeds, how f*cking much I hurt you because I was so young, unexperienced, bold, inconsiderate, busy to start something new. I’m grateful to you for helping me start to grow up. For taking me with you so early as the 3rd date to your brother’s family – me who’s basically a single kid without cheerful and loud family – and over the time just let me become part of it, have a 2nd family and find a step-mother in your sis-in-law. For renting a flat together, first time for me, when I started college in the neighbor town and to help me learn to lead an adult and own life. For tolerating my childish jealousy on your ex-wife whom you divorced about 5 years before meeting me. For showing me that some men do take their share of household duties, they are selfless, honorable, don’t always just want sex. For drawing and painting pictures of me – not only on canvas or paper, but on our kitchen wall based on Mucha’s Zodiac. For putting my self-confidence to normal and even boosting it during the whole relationship – by always incredibly proudly walking on my side and holding my hand despite having a higher degree or being a half-head taller than you. For going out to drink coffee or beer or hot chocolate and just chatting because we had many in common. Also for introducing me to your best friend whose small kids mentioned our names always together. For going together to the garden parties in your brother’s garden, getting drunk together and to a 1-week holiday every year. For being interested just on me and seeing me beautiful without any change in me (because you are an artist, you’ve got a different view to things). I’m so much grateful for having experienced that you and your family just purely loved me.

But I was too young for you, immature, we were in 2 different periods in our life. I was unable to appreciate, even perceive!, what a treasure I had. After 3,5 years I became bored or empty, longing for excitement, more and newer. I’d left you and quite soon that “new” came across. It punched me in the face, slapped my ass (like a strict dad punishes his nasty kid – painful, shocking but useful for the future) and butchered that trust and honor in men and self-confidence I had gained through the years by your side. Outside, I look better now, but not inside.

I wish you’ve recovered afterwards, became even more successful in your job and painting and you are happy and satisfied in your life.

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I cannot just casually wait for you to feel like contacting me. You contacted me all the time when you needed and wanted my support with your projects and problems. No matter what you were doing you texted or called because it was good for you. Even if I was busy at work or with friends, I was available to you-to listen to you, spend time with you, support you. You called me all the time because it helped you. I want the same back. You don’t want to give it. Now you want me to just stay away until it’s convenient for you to contact me. It’s not fair and it’s not a relationship or friendship. It’s me servicing you. It is what makes me furious and feel deserted and used.

Please. Just pay me back and let me go. This cycle of getting together, being close, having sex, trying to talk and work things out, and then you don’t answer me or reach out is too much for me. I don’t want it. I cannot be friends like this let alone a relationship with me. I feel disrespected. You reach out or respond to me only when you want, when it’s convenient for you. This is not a friendship, not a relationship. This is bad for me. Not safe. Scary and painful. Knowing you like this interferes with my life. Weakens me instead of strengthening me.

I want to get out of this. Everything is all on your terms. My life schedule and needs are not being respected. Please. I told you in many, many text messages and emails. Just pay me back so I can have closure and move on. I don’t want this in my life. It’s too painful and erratic. Please. If you have any care or respect for me, just pay me back and let me go. I want to end this and heal and move on. You blame it all on me every time. Last time I protested and got upset you yelled and cursed and yelled and cursed. I am scared to try to talk to you. Scared of your cruelty. You don’t take responsibility. You disappear and return whenever you want. You communicate only when you want. How you want. I do not want this.

These interactions are causing me pain. I want to stop it. You say you feel like I will never let you go. I feel like you won’t let me go. Just pay me back and cut off communication please. This is painful.

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Why do you break my heart like that again and again?
Why do you look at me the way you look at me?
Why do you look at him the way you look at him?
Why do you flirt with other boys right in front of me when you know it hurts me?

Why do I fall for it repeatedly?

I’ve never met anyone like you. I know that you’ve heard it before, but I can’t help but say it because it’s true.
You just aren’t like other girls.

Please be gentle with my fragile heart. I know you can’t, but maybe you could at least try.

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I met a perfect stranger today who knew you. They said they couldn’t imagine us dating. And then tried to backpedal and say how you were great and everything, we just didn’t match. I had to laugh a little at the apology attempts, trying to picture you and I together if I had never seen it.

You are the only person I have ever broken up with and not been sad about. I mean, I literally got exponentially happier every day you were out of my life. My entire extended family has commented to me how it’s a good thing we broke up. I guess no amount of trying will make it work.

Why do people always say you should make it work?

Sometimes the appeal is in it’s not working.

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You are too cool for me.
I’d see you at a party.
From across the room it’s clear your friends have those hipster bangs.
You are behind a pole.
Drinking some hipster beer.
I’d not recognize the music.
Why is that somehow appealing?
You probably smoke cigarettes.
Again, not at all appealing, but adding to that you are too cool for me thing.

When we finally make out weeks later it turns out you aren’t cooler than me.
Your clothes kind of stink like thrift store.
Your music is boring.
Your cigarette mouth tastes gross.
That hipster beer is just plain cheap.
Your friends have hair in their face, but nothing interesting to say.
Your apartment is dirty like a college kid.

What was your allure? I could have garnered all that from the signs.
But too cool for me is just somehow always kind of appealing. Ugh.
Next time, stay behind the pole.

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I think you were the only qualified badass I ever had a crush on.
We had so many adorable inside jokes it was appalling.
Your hair was long enough to tuck it behind your ear.
The entire school knew you had a crush on me.
It was the way you leaned up against my locker.
The way you’d play that dots game in my notebook as an excuse for your finger to brush mine.
The way you’d watch me while pretending to watch the football game.
Very telling.
Sometimes I wish I could feel that sort of terrified attraction again.
It only happens when you are 15.
Now I just wouldn’t glance twice at you. Of course we would never fit.
Though we could have then, even if it was just for a minute.
Minutes are much longer when you have the ache of a teenager.

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You straight up want me to write something filthy about you. Yet I am so terrified of revealing the secret. And you already know that I think the absolute dirtiest things about you. So I probably shouldn’t make it explicit, right? Let you know that I have fantasized about taking you in the back room, you pushing me against the wall and holding my body up with your hips. Taking you in the parking lot, where I have a strangely erotic association with you. That I’ve imagined pushing you discreetly into the bathroom, your hand firmly over my mouth to muffle my inevitable screams. The front seat of my car, or better, the bed of your truck. The hidden roof garden in the middle of the day. Sunshine beating down on our sweaty selves.

I love the feel of your body and mine. I love the idea of you finally getting to touch me in all the places you aren’t allowed. Pull my hair just a little to draw me closer to you. Grab a handful of my ass while I straddle you. Kiss my neck, my tits, my hips.

I’ve tasted just enough to know it would be worth it. Know it would be fun. Perfect. As hot as your dreams and mine.

You know my panties are getting wet as I write this. The perfect pair to slip into your pocket – to fulfill what fantasy of yours, I’m not sure. You must get off on the risk of getting caught. But we both know we couldn’t go through with it. Or we already would have again and again. You’ll just have to get your heart rate up knowing that you’ll never really know all the dirty thoughts I have reserved only for you. It’s innocent enough. Or not innocent at all.

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