Now, I can say these things without any hesitance, yet I had no courage to tell you at the time. I felt love for you. Not quite like the genuine love I feel for the woman I have seen. The ones you do and do not know about. But it was a love formed out of friendship. I admired your intelligence. I respected your social life. I thought that these things were enough.
I had visions of a lengthy, fulfilling relationship. I envisioned marriage, I envisioned kids. I could not see myself any happier with any other man. You were the first person who seemed to ‘get me’. You liked me for who I was. You weren’t looking to change me. You were what I was looking for, what I had been waiting for.
I do still miss you too. I want to know what you’re doing now. I want to know how school is, what your major is. I know you’ve been travelling, across country borders, vertical to mountains and glaciers. A sense of jealousy floods me because I want to hear all about it. I want to hear the stories that you would only tell me, in those secret moments of couple hood.
But I know that I would hear with only one ear, with half-attention, and that I would force a laugh at your jokes that I never liked. My focus on you was never my strong suit. Instead of listening, I would formulate what I would say next. I thought it was my job to enlighten you.
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In the beginning, we had been slowly (and for me, at a painfully slow pace) been exploring our bodies. Both virgins, we tried to communicate. Obviously, this was a disaster. We didn’t know what we liked. We didn’t know what we were doing.
I thought this was normal. That I/we/’us’ would grow out of it.
I always wanted physical intimacy, but never felt satisfied. I certainly enjoyed the friction; the pleasure of satisfying another’s needs before mine. But afterwards I felt restless and disappointed I could not arouse myself in quite the same manner that you did.
The moment it was over I felt relieved. It was a lot of work to get someone off when you felt nothing.
And as much I as I demanded and enforced a safe-sex relationship, I despised condoms. I detested how it killed the mood when you would fumble to put it on. I remember insulting you, describing my hatred for your anatomy. I didn’t want to look at it. I wanted the lights out.
I disliked taking that small white pill every morning. I hated that I gained weight, hated that I was now on some four-week schedule of intimacy.
For that small window of time when we were dating inside the same high school grounds, we barely saw each other. In retrospect, I can confidently saw that I was intentionally avoiding you. I would rush around hallways I knew you were near. I avoided eye contact at my locker. I didn’t like people seeing us together. I never knew how to act around you, if I could touch you.
I never wanted to be one of ‘those couples’ (as if I had any idea how a ‘normal’ relationship should behave) that were overtly affectionate in their romance, showcasing their obvious obsession in such broad and superfluous gestures. I deemed that behavior immature, and something I would not partake in it. And again, you would not only accept this cold cynical attitude, but also say that you were okay with it. Even though I knew you weren’t. You did not deserve this.
I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry that I couldn’t tell you the truth when you asked for it. I am sorry that I constantly betrayed your trust. I lied to you, for small and large things, for small and large reasons. This behavior was inappropriate. I repeat, you did not deserve it. I took you for granted, like you were a little plaything. I was testing you out, testing your gender out, to see if I liked it.
I was selfish and stubborn and mean. I played you from the beginning.
In your future relationships, I would hope that the obstacles that you face and (hopefully) conquer with this faceless/nameless female never directly correlate back to that one girl you dated years ago who you loved but didn’t love you back as hard because of who/what she really loved. I hope I didn’t damage you past repair. I am sorry.
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