Angry girl letter in a drawer.
I wrote this back in March, after I went to Boston to visit Rob for the first time:
Prior to leaving for Boston, I received two instant message alerts from someone who figured into my semi-recent past. Until I received these little alerts of my poor past judgement in character, my heartbreak had faded, my seething anger diminishing as I moved on with my life and busied myself with other passions, other interests, and other men. My frustration at having put myself in a precarious financial situation - thanks to promises he did not and could not keep - was tiding over, despite other setbacks. My rage at spending so much time doing things I clearly had no interest in - like spending nights bored out of my skull in soulless open-mike nights at the local hyuck-factory - was cooling, since I looked ahead to the future, where I would never feel obligated to eke out a pity laugh at lukewarm 'humor' again. My disappointment in the bedroom, where my suggestion of more foreplay (so that I might actually enjoy his pathetic thrusts) was answered with a pretense of 'hurt feelings,' where I ultimately revolted at his emaciated, lizard-like body, and where sex was defined where be began and ended - which meant that my wants, desires and needs didn't figure in at all - had been upended by joyful, spine-tingling, mind-blanking sex with a partner whom I love.
And then I got an email, another reminder that my pathetic ex can't get a fucking clue. I decided several months ago that I didn't want any pretense of friendship with him. He didn't have the stones to look directly at me and break my heart, so why the fuck do I need to open my life to him anymore? I owe him nothing. At the time, I drafted a letter that has been sitting in my Gmail queue for several months:
Kevin,
I feel the need to respond to your behavior over the past few months. I know that when you so callously broke things off with an email and a text message you wanted to leave the door open for some sort of friendship. I'm sure you were, at least in your own mind, genuine in your desire for some continued contact with me. For a time I entertained that idea, but I quickly grew to realize that such an arrangement could never be satisfactory. I am still incredibly angry with you for the way you ended our relationship and am disappointed in your latest behavior of semi-constant reminders of what we had. 'Pokes', wall postings and not-so-subtle status updates on Facebook need to cease. It is clear to me that your priority is still satisfying yourself and perhaps curbing the residual guilt about what you did. I feel no need to ease your mind - after all, no apology has been issued from your end, and the onus is not on me. Even if an apology came, I would severely doubt its sincerity, particularly because you don't come across as genuine.
You need to stop bothering me. If I decide to speak with you again, it will be on my terms, not yours. You need to understand that I may never be ok with speaking with you, or seeing you. It's too difficult to see you and think of what we had, only to be jolted back to reality and think of your inability to compromise or consider the consequences of your actions.
The consequence of your last one is me cutting you off.
Brigitta
The thing about cutting someone off, though, doesn't require the other party to do anything. It would, in fact, be ideal if he did nothing at all, including contacting me in any way, shape or form. Do you hear that? I want nothing to do with you. I do not look back fondly on our relationship, no do I recall with pleasure the time I spent with you. You have made your choices about what is important, Kevin, and I have made mine about what is not.
His email, for the rest of my audience, is here:
Hey there,
I've been going a few months without hearing from you, then I saw we're not on the same MySpace or Facebook lists. Understandable. You probably got a couple of IM messages from me and probably closed them out as soon as you knew they were from me. Again, understandable.
I don't expect us to be friends or even acquaintances after everything that's happened with us. But I really do hope things have worked out in your favor lately. it seems like they have.
Anyway, unless you want to talk some more, this will be the last you hear from me. I'm sorry I hurt you. You have obviously moved on and I'm glad to see it. You deserve someone who not only makes you as happy as I remember you being when we were together, but can also be the man you need in your life.
For what it's worth, the way we ended was my fault (not that there's any question about that) and I'm sorry for being such a child about it.
I wish you nothing but the best of luck in everything you do and I hope you know I have nothing but love and respect for you.
Take care of yourself and please have a safe trip.
Love,
Kevin
Oh, Kevin, you have so much to learn. First of all, I think you need a review in general capitalization, since you obviously didn't pay attention in the college classes that you could muster the sobriety to attend. Second, I don't need to justify my actions to anyone, and especially not you. Your 'understandable' reaction to my attempts to cut you off in each outlet are condescension that I neither want or need. Third, are you serious when you say that I won't hear from you again? Your subject line of 'One last email' filled me with hope. Is this really the last I hear from you? Are you finally done trying to hurt me? I want nothing to do with you. You have done nothing but disappoint me. Yes, you are a 30-year-old child. Yes, it was your fault. Yes, I deserve someone who makes me happy - unlike you. For starters, his credit card - not a Green Dot Visa, by the way - isn't declined. And no, ending this email with 'Love,' tells a lie. You have no idea what it's like to love me, since you clearly didn't respect me enough to leave me alone. That is what I want. I'm so much happier without you. I want you to go away and never talk to me again.
-30-
Since I wrote this, a lot has changed. I live in Boston now with the wonderful guy mentioned at the end of the first paragraph. I moved my dj blog to another address for a few reasons, but the biggest one was definitely privacy. It's been more than a year since I've spoken with Kevin and I'm much happier for it. I hadn't really heard from him apart from three very weird text messages in early summer, asking if I was happy. (I was and am.) Yesterday I received an evite from 'Sullivan Smith' (his stage name ... for all those stages he's on) for StumbleUpon. I'm fairly sure that it was just an address import thing and mine still happens to be in his contact list. But honestly, I don't give a flying fuck how my email address made it into that 'send to' space. Why should I have to deal with stupid reminders popping every few months when I'm so clearly moving on with my life? What has not changed since I wrote this diatribe is my desire to be left the fuck alone by him.
Prior to leaving for Boston, I received two instant message alerts from someone who figured into my semi-recent past. Until I received these little alerts of my poor past judgement in character, my heartbreak had faded, my seething anger diminishing as I moved on with my life and busied myself with other passions, other interests, and other men. My frustration at having put myself in a precarious financial situation - thanks to promises he did not and could not keep - was tiding over, despite other setbacks. My rage at spending so much time doing things I clearly had no interest in - like spending nights bored out of my skull in soulless open-mike nights at the local hyuck-factory - was cooling, since I looked ahead to the future, where I would never feel obligated to eke out a pity laugh at lukewarm 'humor' again. My disappointment in the bedroom, where my suggestion of more foreplay (so that I might actually enjoy his pathetic thrusts) was answered with a pretense of 'hurt feelings,' where I ultimately revolted at his emaciated, lizard-like body, and where sex was defined where be began and ended - which meant that my wants, desires and needs didn't figure in at all - had been upended by joyful, spine-tingling, mind-blanking sex with a partner whom I love.
And then I got an email, another reminder that my pathetic ex can't get a fucking clue. I decided several months ago that I didn't want any pretense of friendship with him. He didn't have the stones to look directly at me and break my heart, so why the fuck do I need to open my life to him anymore? I owe him nothing. At the time, I drafted a letter that has been sitting in my Gmail queue for several months:
Kevin,
I feel the need to respond to your behavior over the past few months. I know that when you so callously broke things off with an email and a text message you wanted to leave the door open for some sort of friendship. I'm sure you were, at least in your own mind, genuine in your desire for some continued contact with me. For a time I entertained that idea, but I quickly grew to realize that such an arrangement could never be satisfactory. I am still incredibly angry with you for the way you ended our relationship and am disappointed in your latest behavior of semi-constant reminders of what we had. 'Pokes', wall postings and not-so-subtle status updates on Facebook need to cease. It is clear to me that your priority is still satisfying yourself and perhaps curbing the residual guilt about what you did. I feel no need to ease your mind - after all, no apology has been issued from your end, and the onus is not on me. Even if an apology came, I would severely doubt its sincerity, particularly because you don't come across as genuine.
You need to stop bothering me. If I decide to speak with you again, it will be on my terms, not yours. You need to understand that I may never be ok with speaking with you, or seeing you. It's too difficult to see you and think of what we had, only to be jolted back to reality and think of your inability to compromise or consider the consequences of your actions.
The consequence of your last one is me cutting you off.
Brigitta
The thing about cutting someone off, though, doesn't require the other party to do anything. It would, in fact, be ideal if he did nothing at all, including contacting me in any way, shape or form. Do you hear that? I want nothing to do with you. I do not look back fondly on our relationship, no do I recall with pleasure the time I spent with you. You have made your choices about what is important, Kevin, and I have made mine about what is not.
His email, for the rest of my audience, is here:
Hey there,
I've been going a few months without hearing from you, then I saw we're not on the same MySpace or Facebook lists. Understandable. You probably got a couple of IM messages from me and probably closed them out as soon as you knew they were from me. Again, understandable.
I don't expect us to be friends or even acquaintances after everything that's happened with us. But I really do hope things have worked out in your favor lately. it seems like they have.
Anyway, unless you want to talk some more, this will be the last you hear from me. I'm sorry I hurt you. You have obviously moved on and I'm glad to see it. You deserve someone who not only makes you as happy as I remember you being when we were together, but can also be the man you need in your life.
For what it's worth, the way we ended was my fault (not that there's any question about that) and I'm sorry for being such a child about it.
I wish you nothing but the best of luck in everything you do and I hope you know I have nothing but love and respect for you.
Take care of yourself and please have a safe trip.
Love,
Kevin
Oh, Kevin, you have so much to learn. First of all, I think you need a review in general capitalization, since you obviously didn't pay attention in the college classes that you could muster the sobriety to attend. Second, I don't need to justify my actions to anyone, and especially not you. Your 'understandable' reaction to my attempts to cut you off in each outlet are condescension that I neither want or need. Third, are you serious when you say that I won't hear from you again? Your subject line of 'One last email' filled me with hope. Is this really the last I hear from you? Are you finally done trying to hurt me? I want nothing to do with you. You have done nothing but disappoint me. Yes, you are a 30-year-old child. Yes, it was your fault. Yes, I deserve someone who makes me happy - unlike you. For starters, his credit card - not a Green Dot Visa, by the way - isn't declined. And no, ending this email with 'Love,' tells a lie. You have no idea what it's like to love me, since you clearly didn't respect me enough to leave me alone. That is what I want. I'm so much happier without you. I want you to go away and never talk to me again.
-30-
Since I wrote this, a lot has changed. I live in Boston now with the wonderful guy mentioned at the end of the first paragraph. I moved my dj blog to another address for a few reasons, but the biggest one was definitely privacy. It's been more than a year since I've spoken with Kevin and I'm much happier for it. I hadn't really heard from him apart from three very weird text messages in early summer, asking if I was happy. (I was and am.) Yesterday I received an evite from 'Sullivan Smith' (his stage name ... for all those stages he's on) for StumbleUpon. I'm fairly sure that it was just an address import thing and mine still happens to be in his contact list. But honestly, I don't give a flying fuck how my email address made it into that 'send to' space. Why should I have to deal with stupid reminders popping every few months when I'm so clearly moving on with my life? What has not changed since I wrote this diatribe is my desire to be left the fuck alone by him.