Posted in Friends, Relationships, Single Life

A letter to my ex.

Dear You,

The summer was confusing.  I missed you and you confessed you still loved me.

We nearly met up to see if we could rekindle things.  We didn’t meet – thank God.  Being friends wasn’t going to happen, was it?  At least not yet.  Any anyway, I was seeing someone (admittedly I wasn’t as invested as I would have liked to have been), but even if I wasn’t the residual feelings we had would have fucked any glimpse of a platonic relationship.  Then we had our phone call.  That was bad, wasn’t it?  You annoyed me so much.  I know I was in the wrong for inviting then uninviting you, and I get that you laid your heart on the line and then retracted it, because I might have dumped you again.  And you were right.  I was willing to give it another shot, knowing we could break up again if it didn’t quite work out.  Not my kindest hour…

Then we stopped talking again.  Total silence for a few months.  Even when I was in hospital I didn’t hear from you.

That was shit.  It pissed me off and it upset me.

You were with me throughout the year when I was undergoing tests and finding out what was wrong.  Hence why I dropped you a text the other day with the gist of: ‘FYI: I’ve had my op – all fine.  Hope you’re well’.  The messaging back and forth was lovely.  I hated silence; and I got the impression you didn’t like it either.  Our drink on Friday was fun too.  Catching up was a laugh.  Weird, but a laugh.  By 10:00 we called it a night.  Thanks for walking me home.  It was flattering when you called up to see if you could pop in to say ‘hi’ and chill for a little longer.  Sorry I had to say ‘no’ – it really was because my parents would have gone ape.

Then our Wednesday dinner was pretty cool.  You were awkward about me paying, weren’t you?  But I did say I would (and I always paid in our relationship, so it wasn’t anything new).  I know it was weird when we were talking about the guy I like and who I’m also sleeping with, but we were trying to be friends.  And actually, having a male’s opinion was helpful.  P.S. – I’m glad you’re over your dry spell.

Your suggestion of going for a drink after wasn’t your best move – we both knew who’d have to pay.  But, I admit, we had fun again.  Of course we were flirting because we have great chemistry, and – like we said – when our relationship was good it was really fucking good.  There was so much to talk about!  We were the last ones out the bar at closing time!

But I’m still annoyed at you.  I’m annoyed at you again.  Why?  Because we mainly only spoke about you.  Your main topic of interest is yourself.  And because I care about you, and am polite, I ask you questions about you.  How many questions do you think you asked me about me?  Ball park guess: probably around 5 over the course of the whole evening.

I’m glad things are well with you.  I realise that I don’t miss you, I miss the boyfriend experience.  I’m happy to be friends, but you make the effort, yeah?

 

Love,

Me.

Xxx

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