This is an old pain but one that lingers. In a way there is a part of me that does not want to post it. But it has eaten at me for so long that If I don’t let it out it will consume me.
I doubt that you know it even hurt me. But it made me feel small and insignificant in a way similar to how I feel right now.
Several months ago we met for lunch. You were bright-eyed and loud and feeling your oats so to speak. Your fun when your like that. I love it. But this time was different. I brought you a letter as I sometimes do. You saw it and asked if it was for you and smiled, knowing it was. You were charming and fun as hell. You took the letter and gave it a glance and I could tell you were happy to receive it and you set it aside to take and read later, which made me happy.
You knew it was another love letter and I felt like it meant something to you and I felt that I meant something to you. I had already told you many times how much I loved you. You had rejected my advances but still saw me and I though I meant something to you. I had written you several erotic love letters, many of which you responded to very positively. You flirted etc. You knew I was in love with you, you knew that I wanted to make love to you. You knew how deeply I felt towards you and you had one of my love letters in sitting at your elbow.
As we caught up I asked how the weekend was and you told me that a friend had set you up with a Fireman and you said: “He was kind of hunky, so I fucked him” You were giddy. I knew he meant nothing to you and you told me so. But I felt like I had been kicked in the balls and put in my place. That’s what it takes to fuck Catnip. Even though he meant nothing to you how could you be so callous to my feelings towards you. I don’t care who you sleep with. I don’t care who you fuck and I think you know that. But please don’t dismiss me in the process as if I care nothing for you or as if a casual approach to intimacy means nothing because it means something to me, it means I’m not good enough, we can hang out but fuck your feelings about me I can do whatever the fuck I want.
You’ve mentioned him twice since both times you said the exact same thing. “I fucked a fireman!”
So what does that say about me? What does that say about who I am to you? I felt like a nobody. Like a stupid gullible old man writing love letters to a woman who was out fucking Fireman. I felt like you were telling me: “Your nobody, stay in your place, if I were interested you would know because we’d be fucking already.”
It was the first time I felt that you were rubbing my nose in it.
I don’t know why you told me or what you thought I would think or what your purpose was, but it made me feel like a piece of shit. And it still does. Not because you slept with him but because you just don’t care that it hurts me. You’ve told me you used many men, and I don’t even care. Fuck anyone you want. But how can you not know that it hurts me. You’ve told me about him now four times and it kills me because I KNOW he meant nothing to you, but still you share something with him that is intensely personal and pleasing and gratifying.
Something frankly that you want to share with me and wont. That’s all ok. I don’t want to make love with you. Did you know that. I don’t think you could stand it. I don’t think you can talk that from me, meaning that you cant allow yourself to be that close to me because your afraid of what comes after. As if that’s all I want or as if that’s all that you think your worth. That I’m a hit it and quit it guy and that’s all your worth. As soon as I make love to you I will leave. Id rather never see you again from this very moment on then to have you think of me that way. So fuck you. I don’t want to touch you if it hurts us. Even so I am pretty lost.
I fear I will never be what you need me to be and I will forever be trying to win a love that will never be.
I sorry I am not what you need or needed me to be.