Letter to my ex

I have found that tips for dealing with breakups – the male version are more effective for me than the female version.

It is less flowery, it is no-nonsense. It is what I needed. One post that I read advised writing a letter to your ex (but not actually sending it). That’s what I’m doing here:


I loved you but I understand your reasons. You were scared. We are 22. It is not the end of the world. I didn’t even cry today. I know it is stupid to want closure and comfort after your breakup from you ex. It is stupid. The only healthy way to process things and move on is a clean break. But I didn’t want comfort. I wanted you to look me in the eye as we agreed to let go and start new journeys without each other. 

We were each other’s first times. I was your first love. You were my second. But you were my first mature relationship. And I didn’t want it to end over a text message. I wanted it to be real right till the end. You flaked out on me. You got too scared. What I wanted was a real honest breakup. But you were too afraid to look at the tears in my eyes and know that you were the reason.

You said it would cause you stress. Well, you are stressed anyway. I know you. I know your soul. I know what I mean to you. And I know that your guilt will make you miserable. 

A part of me wants to hug you and tell you it is okay. That you will be fine. A part of me wants to shake you and tell you it was stupid. We were perfect. Mind, body and soul, we fit. There weren’t crazy butterflies. But there was comfort and strength and companionship and our minds were one. You were more best friend than boyfriend to me. And that’s the loss I feel. I could afford to lose a lover. But I lost respect for the man I adored. And you lost one of the two people outside your family that you could call your own. 

Do you think A will forgive you? She is the one who made our paths cross all those years ago. She knows my side of the story. When she knows yours, will she feel sorry, or will she feel disgust too?

I told her I’m open to reconciliation. As long as she is alive, there is a chance our paths will cross. But who knows if you will even attend her birthday brunch 6 months later. Maybe you will chicken out then too. I wonder if you will wish me on my birthday in October. I wonder if you will wish me luck for my Finals. I wonder if you will think of me when you check in the rearview for cops (and pervy strangers) before quickly sneaking in a kiss with someone else. You probably won’t. Not for a long time.

It may seem arrogant of me but will you find a girl this smart, hot, promiscuous and unafraid of poop jokes? 

I was your it. I know it. You know it. Remember. I know your soul. I know what drives you. I know your moods. I know exactly why you did what you did. Exactly. But I had hoped for better. Which is why though I can’t hate you and why even my anger from yesterday has dissipated, the only negative feeling I feel is disappointment.

You let me down, D. And you had better baked me a cake and come ring that doorbell or give me a call to come downstairs when you see it.

That’s what I did for a much smaller transgression. I hope you can find it in your heart to give me my best friend again. Because it kills me that you need me and I’m not there anymore. You will become withdrawn again. You will harden. You will become your brother. I hope for fuck’s sake that you don’t. Because I chipped your ice away and made you a cuddle bear. And that’s how I want to remember you. I don’t wanna see you at A’s wedding a few years down the line and see an asshole. I will want to slap you. And one drop of tear. Finally.

But no more. I have mourned and I have to move on. I can’t even find a rebound for 5 months because Finals! But I can study. I can exercise. I can eat well. Take care of myself. Be there for my family and friends. 

I will always wait. Always.

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