Letters to My Almost Lovers (#1)

In the spirit of Valentine's day, I want to do something a little different here...


I thought it might be interesting to write "letters" to each of my past lovers.  Maybe this will give a little insight into my past dating life, and maybe show what I've been through and gotten past over the years.  Can you say, therapeutic?


I hope whomever reads this, you enjoy.


Here it goes...



     Dear John,
You were my first everything.  People saw you as intimidating, mysterious.  But I always saw past the piercings, and tattoos, leaving me to only see a quiet, and gentle person (yet admittedly you still scared me a little at times, too). 
Our relationship didn't start in the most conventional way.  I didn't expect to fall for someone like you, especially considering that you were old enough to be a much older brother.  Thirty to my innocent eighteen.  We got tipsy at our work party, and I remember laying with you on our friends bed while everyone else had started to pass out drunk from the festivities.  You too, fell asleep, and managed to stick your hand down the front of my jeans.  That was the first intimate physical contact I'd ever had with a man.  While it was strangely exciting, I was also thoroughly embarrassed.  I tried to avoid you most of the next day at work, when we all had to face each other from our drunken shenanigans the night prior.  You asked me out to the back of the salon to talk, as you could probably sense the awkwardness all over my face.  You asked me out to a movie, and told me you had to figure out why you'd acted the way you did the night before.  To address your feelings.
     We never went to the movie.  You didn't follow my directions, so we ended up at the beach.  You talked a lot about your brother, whom was more around my age.  I still don't really know why...maybe you were trying to deter yourself from getting involved with a younger girl.  But by the end of the date you kissed me, and it was over.
I moved in with you after just three months.  My parents obviously did not approve of our relationship, and my father and I's relationship quickly deteriorated.  I only moved in with you so soon, as he'd threatened to kick me out.  But I have to appreciate you for taking me in, and making me feel safe then.  Looking back though, I shouldn't have been so swayed by your suggestion to move out.  I shouldn't have been so stubborn, and I feel a real man would've wanted me to preserve my relationship with my father, not just throw it out the window.
     The year we were together was amazing, crazy, scary, and sad.  I fell head over heels for you, and I couldn't see past my rose coloured glasses.  We built a home together, and I thought we'd be together forever, as I'm sure most young people in love think with their firsts.
In many ways you were a great boyfriend.  You wrote me cards every couple of weeks, telling me how much you enjoyed me, and wanted to be with me.  Spend your life with me.  And in many others, you were not.  Looking back now, I realise that you liked to manipulate me, and tried to make me be someone I wasn't yet.  You'd buy me clothes, and do my hair the way you liked, when I hadn't even found my own self confidence.  Sometimes you were scary.  You threatened to break up with me once if I didn't quit working for our old boss, and you flipped out on me for going out with my girlfriends without you, just because a few guys were also coming with us (whom were either taken, or gay, by the way).  You could easily shut down and not speak to me.  Sometimes for days.
     I knew things would be ending soon once you started trying to get a job in the club scene downtown.  You were frequently out until 4am, with people I didn't know, and never met.  You would tell me you want a night in, "just the two of us", get a call from a friend, and go out leaving me all alone. You stopped being affectionate, and having sex with me.  Do you know what that did to me?  To not be touched by the man I love?  Did you even care?
Around Thanksgiving, you kept suggesting that once our lease was up, I should move back in with my parents to "save money".  You and my family must have thought I was stupid, and didn't see the signs, but really I just didn't want to face what I ultimately knew was going to happen.
     You broke up with me one morning after dropping me off at my parent's house for a visit.  You barely said five words to me, and shortly after, I received the three paged text message.  To this day, I can hardly remember what it said.  I've blocked out a lot.  But you broke me.  You even had the nerve to call a few hours later, asking me when I would start moving my stuff out.  No emotion in your voice, you sounded like you were simply asking what the time of day was.
     Coming home was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.  I was convinced my father hated me.  He called me a tart and didn't speak to me for months, nor I to him.  I barely ate or slept for at least two weeks.  You kept asking me when I'd be getting the last of my stuff out of our apartment.  The day I went back with my mother and sisters to get my things, I couldn't look at you.  And you, being the coward you are, hid away in your room with your buddy while I mustered up the energy to move around the place grabbing my belongings.  Leaving behind the cats we had shared together was heartbreaking.  I at least hoped you'd take care of them, even though you no longer wanted to care for me.
I was stupid once shortly after that, and almost took you back.  But going back into our much very empty apartment was unsettling.  It was cold, unwelcoming.  I no longer existed in that space, and I couldn't put on my rose coloured glasses again and pretend you hadn't shattered my heart.  How could someone tell another person that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with them, only to completely throw them out of it moments later?  I really never knew 'why'.  I tried, but you ended it again, saving me.
     While I still get angry (mostly at myself) at the very thought of you, years later, I actually have to thank you.
Without the experience of our relationship, I'd probably still be the same, quiet, timid girl that I was before I met you.  Loving and breaking up with you changed me in a lot of ways for the better.  I matured, and have grown into a woman that I'm proud to be.  A woman I don't think I'd be yet if I hadn't met you.  Sure, I would've saved myself a lot of pain, but being with you taught me to never let a man try and make me be what he wants me to be.  To never let a man manipulate me, or threaten and question my love for him and our relationship.  Which were nothing more than your own insecurities, and bullying to make me stay, making sure you were the one in control.  I still have the cards you wrote me.  I remember the time when reading them still made me cry.  No more.  I'm not sure why I've kept them after all this time, almost six years later.  Maybe to keep a little shred of happiness, from all of that heartache.


But here I am.  A little older, and more the wiser.  Thank you for teaching me what a healthy relationship isn't.  Thank you for breaking my heart, so I learned how to pick up the pieces, and allowing me to heal myself.  Making everything since then sting a little less.



I'm not one to wish ill on anyone, but wherever you are...I don't really care.