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The women in my family always taught me that nobody could hurt you unless you let them. In a way, I guess I did let you.
This is the first time I’m allowing myself to admit this out loud – to admit it period. You hurt me, and I tried to act like you didn’t. I tried to pretend like the conversations I had with you didn’t mean anything. Like you were just some guy I texted when I was lonely. Like you were just an idea. Like I flew across the country just for a long getaway weekend.
But we both know this not to be true. I got close to you. You actively pursued me. You put in effort and energy into getting close to me, into getting me to open up to you. I still remember you telling me how much you admired my poetry, how it made you feel things, how it was so dark yet so beautiful. I still remember you asking me what the darkest thing I’ve never told anybody is. I’m not one to let people in, even those I’m close to, there’s layers upon layers they don’t know are even there to peel back. You must be really good at what you do, because I shared some of these things with you.
You told me things too. I had never known a guy to open up the way you did. I was amazed at how unashamed you were to do so. Some of these were things you claimed to have never been able to say to anyone else (I wonder how often you used that line before me.)
We talked about a future together. You finally getting me out of Texas. I could talk about our crazy ideas for eloping and the things we said we’d do every night and every morning. I could confess the countless things we planned and talked about but I’m sure you don’t want me to get into many details.
I don’t know if you’re just one of the types to have things for sad girls, so often you told me how drawn you were to my darkness. I remember you telling me how you wanted me to read to you all the entries in my journal and all the poetry too twisted to share or put out there. Perhaps you just get off to manipulating and charming people to feel like you have some sort of power. I’ll never know, and at this point, I could care less. All I know is that you’re another name to add to the list of fucked up men I’ve been involved with.
You can’t be serious was my first thought when you had the audacity to text me to ask how I’ve been and to tell me that you are in town for the next week and suggest that maybe we should get together.
You used me for whatever sick little games you play. You put on a façade to get whatever it was that you wanted out of me. You got me to do something I never do, to open up, and then you made me feel like an absolute fool. For months you kept a secret from me. You had a girlfriend. You knew my past experience with cheating. You knew how I’d been hurt this way and how fucked up it left me. You knew how I had hurt someone this way by helping someone cheat and how I never wanted to do something like that again. You made me a participant in an act I never wanted to be involved in again. In an act I never wanted to be done to me again. You’re the most skillful liar I’ve ever met. I remember you talking about how long it had been since you talked to a girl the way you did to me and how long it had been since your last relationship. The reasons it hurt you and the reasons they ended. Now I’m sure those were all lies on your part to reel me in and get me to connect to you in some way.
I found this out. Confirmed 100% shortly after getting back from my trip to see you. Not that it mattered much, because I didn’t hear from you again. I’m glad. I didn’t want to hear from you again.
You text me now months later because you’re in the same city as me?
Fuck no, I don’t want to meet up or get a drink with you.
I still don’t know what it is that you got out of the fucked up game you played with me. Was my body all you were after? That was too much time, too much energy and too much effort to put into just having your way with me.
No, I’m convinced you just like to play with women. I’m convinced it gives you some sort of satisfaction to see how much you can manipulate strong and beautiful women like me. I’m sure you get off to making them to feel things for you. I’m convinced I’m not the first one.
So when you text me and suggest we meet up and wanting to know how I’ve been, my answer is: I’m great now that I’m actively trying to stay away from men like you. I’m doing much better than your girlfriend who has no idea you’re actively going after and playing games with other women. No, I don’t think I want to meet up. For her sake, I hope she finds out. For your sake, don’t piss me off again, because flings come and go but screenshots last forever.