Mister, Mister

So unfair.  so f*cking unfair.

To tease me with, “I have always felt you are my, the one that got away.”  

And then (in practically the next breath) state, “but lose my email address, because I promise you, I will not respond.” 

(to say I’m hurting is the understatement of the year)

Mister, Mister

I like to think that the reason you blocked me from your e-mail was because you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to resist me…

(and not because you didn’t desire me).

You have no messages… (beep)

Christ.  Definitely NOT a good night to be watching Bridget Jones’ Diary.

(all by myself… don’t wanna be all by myself anymore) 

*  bugger  *

I’m a loser baby…

Re: Please don’t do that again…

Dear Mister, Mister–

Where to begin?  Like most written confessions, this is just as much for me as it is for you.  Nevertheless, I’m hoping it will shed a little light on my past behaviour…  

From your last note, it appeared to me as if you were feeling slightly guilty.  And, if I’m correct (in believing that you were feeling some guilt), I really wish that you wouldn’t.  ’cause it was all me.  honestly, all me.  I dangled the bait– you bit– and then I yanked the hook from your mouth (all the while seemingly punishing you for it by making you believe I was more honorable– or stronger– than you).  

But, I’m not strong… or honorable.  I was, quite simply, an ass: albeit an ass in the form of a frightened-insecure-formerly-betrayed-wife who didn’t want to “come in second” yet again to another woman.  Or, to put it even more bluntly– I was too insecure to compete with your wife.  I mean, what if I wasn’t good enough… again?  See, the truth is not so pretty… and definitely not honorable.

So, the honor and strength belong to you.  Period.  And, I really needed you to know that. 

Lastly, I understand that I totally blew it with you… and I understand why I’m not ”good” for you.  And, because I’m me– insecure, fickle, and confused– just knowing that you’ve asked me to stay away makes me want you even more.  Pathetic, huh?  

And, I’m so very sorry.  Because, ironically, the only thing I ever really wanted– besides a cold beer on a summer’s night with a friend– was to be good for someone.