Hi,

I really appreciate you thinking that you knew me this entire time. You never even made a conscious effort to try and find out more, but you sure assumed a lot. It must have been really fun to create a vivid fantasy of who I was in your head, and then get mad at me when I didn’t match the image you generated. You roped my pathetically lonely self in a second time, with cheesy epithets and dreams that would never take off, because you are the King of Unfinished Promises, and an expert at never delivering on what you say you will. I don’t know if you realize this, or if you just love living in your fantasies.

Because here’s the thing– I am not your perfect, Garden State Dream Girl, I’m just me. I have shitty days. I get mad too easily sometimes. I’m no fantasy girl. And it freaked you out when I showed you who I actually was. You say you cared about me so much, but in all actuality, you cared about the me you thought you knew, the one you created in your mind. I get it– fantasies of people are always more fun!! But for you to get mad when I wasn’t the easy-going, agreeable girlfriend you’d imagined? Fucking ridiculous, if we’re being honest. You sunk all your dreams that you’ve had since you were a little boy of romance and perfect dates into a girl you barely knew. Your rom-com obsession reallyyyyy fucking shows. Grow up. Please. And adjust your expectations. You’re over-dramatic, and way too fucking quick to get invested. I know you’re bitterly stewing over a Spotify playlist that you’ve made full of shitty indie music about heartbreak. I know you’re probably cursing me in your head. That’s fine by me. Hopefully you can find that idealized, unrealistic, probably not-fucking-real lady of your dreams one day, dude.

Good luck,
me.

p.s: we didn’t technically date, and our relationship was barely a real relationship. but it had to be said.