Things I need to say

Things I need to say

Things I need to say

Hi J,

I’m writing because our “break up” was over Viber messaging, which is sort of a joke. In fact, our whole dalliance – for want of a better word – was a joke. That’s why I’m finding this really hard to deal with: we were never in an actual relationship. When there’s no start or middle, there can’t be an ending, and when there’s no ending, there’s no closure.

 I lied to you a lot, either on purpose or by letting your assumptions about me go unchallenged. I know how I seemed to you when we first met – pretty, funny, carefree, kind, laidback, confident. I was about 12kg lighter when I moved into your flat. My weight – or, more precisely, the way I feel about my weight – strongly influences how I feel about myself as a whole and how I interact with others. I wear baggy jackets in the warmth and avoid beaches. I’m more insecure than you could know.

I’m sorry I put on weight because I know it changed my personality. I’m sorry I wanted sex with the light off, my top on and under the blankets in missionary. I’m sorry we never had an honest conversation about the issue, and I’m sorry for making you feel guilty about telling me you no longer found me physically attractive.

Thanks for being the first guy I’ve had genuine, reciprocated feelings for. Thanks for your looks, which always made my stomach knot. Thanks for giving me the most intense orgasm I’ve had in my life. Thanks for your seriousness, your old fashioned ways and your moral code. Thanks for telling me that your lap was where I belonged. And thank you so much for trusting me with your secrets and hang-ups.

Sorry I was so disingenuous with you a lot of the time. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, though you think otherwise. I read books and watch movies and sitcoms and listen to music, which informs my behaviour more than my heart does. I should have been real with you from the start. Maybe it’s too hard in the society of the spectacle eh.

I don’t think I ever loved you. But I miss you, I think about you every day and I want to see you. I want to kiss you and cuddle and impress you and hear about your business and new job. I want to fuck you in broad daylight, naked, and I want you to say my name when you cum.

But that won’t happen until I’m beautiful again. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. My personality only works when it’s got a pretty face and great body to shine through. That felt like the real me, back when things were good between us.

Thanks though. I’ve never met anyone quite like you. I hope you think about me. I hope you miss me.



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