Dear F, (7)

It’s amazing how much can change in three weeks. How quick the emotions can change and how the person you think you fell in love with can turn and show their ‘real colours’.

I was coming to terms with the break up quite well the past week and a half or so. I was feeling perkier and more positive. I believed you still cared and still respected me. You still called me baby. You kept sending me messages. You put kisses at the end of some messages. But I now know why you did all that: to get me back in to bed. And it worked.

I was an idiot. I was easily swayed. I knew I shouldn’t do it. I knew I didn’t really want to do it. But you offered me a hug. And that hug went on for a while. You’d already told me that night how much you wanted me. How much you just wanted to pounce on me. And I felt it in that hug. I felt your old touch. I felt your warmth and comfort. But I didn’t feel the same. I felt awkward and unsure. I knew I should have pulled away. I knew I shouldn’t have even humoured the hug.
I caved. I said I would give having sex with you out of a relationship a go because I think I was hoping that you would want me back. You would realise what you were missing. How much you loved me. You always used to tell me how lucky you were to have me during sex. How beautiful I was. How much you wanted me.

We moved to the sofa. We were kissing but it didn’t feel right. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted it to stop. But I couldn’t find the words or actions to say. I knew it was what you wanted and I was under the spell and belief that I still meant something to you.

We went to your bedroom and we were both soon back in to our old routine of sex. However, this wasn’t as romantic. Wasn’t as comforting. Wasn’t as loving. It felt rough. And rushed. I really just wanted to cry. I didn’t want to do it anymore. But who was I to disappoint you? If I said no, it would show me as weak and stupid. I don’t know why it would but that’s what I thought.
Then you kept kissing my forehead. You know that’s my weakness. I always told you that the kiss on the forehead for me was the biggest sign of love. It was my safety. It was my comfort blanket. You did it and for a second I thought it was okay. But it wasn’t.
We finished off and you ended it how you always do. It felt so degrading this time. I felt pathetic. I felt so small. Then you couldn’t chuck me out quick enough F. You might as well have thrown me out in the nude with my clothes behind me the pace you did it.

This was the biggest wake up call for me. I think I started to realise I was in love with such a false version of you that this new you, the you that has appeared in recent weeks is horrible. You don’t care. You don’t have respect or loyalty. You just care about yourself. But then again, I think that is who you have been all along really?

You never cared. You never really loved me. You used me for sex. I let you do so many things that so many people wouldn’t because I wanted to please you. I wanted to be perfect for you. I didn’t enjoy it. But I did it for you because I loved you. I did so much for you that I never really enjoyed myself.

I let you live your life. I let you have your friends. I let you have your sports. I always let you watched your sports. The films you wanted to see. The gigs you wanted to go to. I let you do everything you wanted. I supported you. I showed interest in it all. Yet you never did the same for me. You forgot my graduation and somehow made it my fault. You couldn’t even get me a girlfriend card at Valentine’s Day or my Birthday. You didn’t organise a single thing for my birthday. I know I didn’t ask to do anything but when you love someone you make an effort. You made no effort whatsoever. You were so ungrateful with the things I organsied for your birthday. You threw it all back in my face a few months later and told me I went over board.  Who does that to someone they love?

You never made the effort to get to know my friends. You were quick to dislike one of my Best Friends. You never showed any interest in anything that came out of my mouth. I asked you to see some different films with me and you wouldn’t. I suggested so many things to do but they weren’t necessarily something you wanted to do, so we didn’t do it. You forgot everything all the time. You never listened to my conversations. You were never on my side. You sided with everyone else but me.
You would never make the effort with my family. Yes, you didn’t like them, but you should have made the effort. You often sat there on your phone around them. You would go off upstairs. You wouldn’t really say anything. No wonder my parents took such a dislike to you. You were rude.

You never cared for me when I was unwell. I was throwing up after having a migraine all evening and you just slept through it. Whenever I had a poorly tummy, it was my fault, because apparently I was anxious or worrying. Yes, sometimes it was but sometimes it wasn’t, but whatever the cause you still should have cared, you still should have looked out for me a bit. Even when I’ve been sent home from work unwell, you’ve shown so little empath, sympathy or care and instead you’ve got me to go round yours, you’ve got sex, you got me to help you move, you got me to go socialise instead of just letting me rest with you by my side and a good film. No wonder I was miserable and we argued. You didn’t let me just rest. You continuously pushed things on me even to the point where I was unwell. You pushed and pushed. You didn’t stop to see if I was okay.

You never understood me and my anxiety and lows. You didn’t try. You ignored my best friend’s olive branch offering of help and advice. You just shoved it under the rug. You got me to go all the way into London, on my own, on the tube, when I was having such a depressive low and heightened anxiety. I was on the phone begging! I was begging you not to make me go. Begging you to understand. Begging you to come home to me. Begging you for a hug. But you shouted at me. Blamed me. Made me sound unreasonable. You said, if I wasn’t going to go to London, then I wouldn’t see you’. But I was desperate to see you. I was scared what I might do on my own. I had to go to London just so I could see you and feel safe. But looking back, why? Why didn’t you understand? Why didn’t you hear my desperation? My pleas? My pain? Why didn’t you help? Why were you so stubborn?

I was besotted with you so I didn’t realise just how shitty you treated me at times. You would always make everything my fault. You made it seem that it was me who was always in the wrong. The one who had the problem. But F, I think it is you? You are just so self absorbed. You only care about yourself. You aren’t open to other things. You aren’t open to other views. You are so one sided. Apart from your family, especially your sister, you don’t care about anyone else. Even the person you said you loved. You were shit to me F and I see that now. You don’t treat someone the way you treated me this past year if you love them.

I sung your praises so much to everyone. I would always say how proud I was of you. How well you were doing. But you never spoke of me the same way. I generally think, in your eyes I was only good for sex. You ignored all the good I did. All the love I showed to you. My dedication to you.

I made myself too available to you. I was always there at your beck and call. I kept my diary clear so that when you had a free moment to bother to see me I would be there. I forgot to live my life. I forgot to take care of myself. I really fell off my path of life. You made miserable without me realising. You made me worse. You put me under so much pressure. You were so picky about things I did. You were always criticising me. Picking up on little things. Always complaining about something I was doing or saying. They got to me. I was constantly on edge because it seemed I was always doing something wrong. I became jumpy and anxious. I didn’t know how to tread. I was becoming exhausted. I was trying so hard that at the slight hint of failure I would break down because I knew you would spot it and pick up on it. You would make a big deal out of it and escalate it. And somehow it would always be my fault.

You broke me long before you broke my heart. I realised this a few months ago and tried twice to end our relationship. I was begging you to let me end it in the middle of London. I was so desperate to feel human again and not be so on edge. But you wouldn’t let me. You said it wasn’t what I wanted. You talked me round. Then a few weeks later, I tried to end it all again between us and again you wouldn’t let me. You manipulated the situation. You didn’t allow me to do it. If it was going to end it was only ever going to be on your terms. And it was.

You were such a good liar. But I found out thins about you and soon learned what was a truth and what wasn’t. You made it too easy to read at times. One of your biggest lies was about going for drinks with a girl. You were insistent that it was her asking and bugging you to meet up, but it wasn’t was it? You’d been begging her to meet up for a drink for months. You were messaging her on Facebook from at least October asking to go for drinks. You even liked pictures of her figure on instagram. Yet, you made me out to be the unstable one. That I was being irrational. But I wasn’t. It was you who was chasing her when you were already in a relationship with me. What else did you lie about?

Tonight, I found out you were back on Tinder. Three weeks after dumping someone that you have loved for way over a year and you go back on Tinder. You’re a joke. You’re heartless and a fake. I spoke it out with you and I am so proud of myself because I kept my composure. I was civil. I was honest. I had all I had to say. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t argue. I was calm. I was upfront. I knew when to stop and I kept my dignity, which was the most important thing.
You won’t catch me begging for you anymore. I’m done with that. I deserve so much better. And the one thing that I know will get me through this is that you won’t get someone as good to you as I was. You won’t get someone who will let you do all the things that you did me to them. You won’t get someone who will let you be so independent to the extent I was with you. You will still get arguments with this next person. You’ll see it wasn’t just me. No one will take the same amount of crap from you that I did. All the messing around. All the non chalant, non-caring act that you did. Your selfishness. You’re not perfect, I am sorry to say F.

I am going to end this letter here, because I don’t want to get nasty because I am better than that. I am not spiteful or hateful. I don’t want to belittle you. I don’t want to hurt you. I still love you somehow. I don’t love you to the extent that I used to. I think I am more in love with the memories and the future I had envisaged than the actual physical you.

If, one day, you realise you miss me and that we did have a good thing, please let me know because I haven’t written us off fully for the future. I know I don’t want to be with you at the moment, but who knows? That might all change in time. We will both grow, become different people and if our paths cross, we will see where it leads. But for now, I am done with trying to prove myself to you. I am done with loving you. I am done with any idea of an ‘us’. I need to love myself first and then get the love of someone who accepts my flaws as well as my advantages. And right now that’s not you.

I hope the new chats are what you are after and I do hope you are happy.

R.

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