Let’s just call you Asshole. Or “A” for short.

A, I’m sorry you’re dying, but since you couldn’t comprehend if I said this to you, I’m grateful for the opportunity to get it off my chest. As hurt as I am, I could never say all of this to you — I wouldn’t cause you the same pain you’ve caused me.

Remember the other day when I told you I couldn’t take any more lies and couldn’t be your girlfriend any longer? How I couldn’t stand to watch you wither away and die from alcohol-induced liver failure like I’d just watched my dad die a few months ago. You said you remembered me telling you on many occasions that I couldn’t and wouldn’t sit by and watch you die the same horrible death as my dad. When I told you it was over, I saw the shock and hurt in your eyes, and at the time, I told you how sorry and sad I was for the loss of our love. I told you it was goodbye, and you said it was the worst day of your life, the worst pain you’d ever felt, even worse than losing your father. I couldn’t stop the tears. I told you I would pray for you to get well. When I left your hospital room, I collapsed and sobbed for 12 hours. Then something cut me to the core. Wanna know what that was?

First, I have a question for you. How long do you think we have been in a committed relationship?

A: We met in April 2015, and have been a couple since late summer of 2015.

Yes, that’s how I remember it also. So can you explain what D___ meant to you for most of 2016? Was she another girlfriend? A fuck buddy? 

A: What are you talking about? 

You know how in the past you’ve always told me you have nothing to hide? Well, you should have thought twice about that before you told me to take me your phone when you were hospitalized. I took your phone so I could pay your bills, make sure your son’s phone was working, keep your electricity turned on, etc., thinking if you do survive, at least these things would be handled. As I scrolled through your text messages trying to find a phone number, I ran across a conversation I wish I’d never read. There was no contact name, but the text snippet was enough to make me suspicious. Looking back, I always thought you were just technology-challenged by not saving contacts; now I wonder if you didn’t label phone numbers as a way of hiding things. Nahhh, you’re not that clever.

You should have at least been smart enough to delete the conversation with your little fuck buddy. Did you keep the thread so you could re-read it? Maybe it got you off thinking you’re some kind of stud. What a joke!

A: (stammering, random denial)

I remember seeing her comment on some of your FB posts awhile back, and there was something about your communication with her that rubbed me the wrong way. Why in the hell did I not listen to my gut at that time?

You asshole! Not only were you fucking her, but you sent her photos that I took of you when WE were on trips. There was even one photo that I was cropped out of. Why didn’t you just end it with me then? Do you really think you’re that special? Irreplaceable? So sexy that nobody can resist you? No, in fact you’re far from it. I guess I’m just an idiot who thought I was being loved for who I am. I couldn’t have been more wrong. How many other lies have there been? Well, here’s a truth for you. You were the worst lover I have ever been with. On the rare occasion when you could perform, you were selfish, lazy, and boring. At least your tiny penis made blowjobs easy. I think my fake gagging was a nice touch. Oh and, speaking of faking, I faked it every time. Not a single orgasm in the entire relationship. Thank goodness for my B.O.B.

Maybe I’m damaged to have stayed so long with a loser like you. You don’t deserve me. And now you don’t have me. I’m not your friend, and I’m most certainly not your girlfriend. Enjoy your final days all alone and remember what you’ve done. Think about the hurt you’ve caused me. Because this really is goodbye.