Sometimes I wonder which me it was that you fell for.  Was it the strong, confident me that you used to run and grab bandaids and soda for at the drop of a hat?  Or was it the me who suddenly fell into a place of needing you?  I still believe that you fell for me and I believe that you are a bold faced liar when you say you don’t need or want anything.  I fully believe that you want me to take the fall for this “relationship” or sexual tryst whatever it is.  The hurt you spew when you say that I shouldn’t feel special when you get a hard on because you can get one at the drop of a hat, or when you tell me that you don’t want or need anything; that this is all about me, that hurts because I know you are lying through your teeth.  Last weekend you asked me to be your girl.  Granted we were both drunk and mid make out but you asked me to be your girl, and your girl only.  I thought that meant one thing.  The next day I tried to clarify and you looked me right in the eyes and said that you wanted to make sure that we were “exclusive sex partners” yet later that night you told me you loved me.

So what the fuck.  What the fucking fuck.  I know that I play my part, I give in and join in and say the things and the feelings and take part in this game.  But you, you feed into it.  You allow me to fall for you “be my girls and I love you’s” and then turn around tell me I shouldn’t feel special.

You control this “relationship” as it is.  You decide the schedule of when we “meet” oh wait I mean see each other.  You have all the power.  Funny enough I told a couple people that the reason I was okay with continuing this is because I felt like I had let loose my inner sex goddess and that finally I was in charge of my sexuality and had power in a sexual relationship.  Whereas all of my other sexual relationships had all been abusive and mostly non consensual.  But you, I had control or I thought I did.

But really, you have control.  You decide, you get the say on when I get what it is that is supposedly about me.  But it’s not about me.  It’s about you and some game you decided to play with me.  I know I keep giving in.  There is a deep need in me to be noticed, to be seen and the only way I know, REALLY know how to do that is to get it from men.  How I wish this was not the only way but it is.  Somehow I think I give off a radar and that you picked up on that.  I don’t think us having sex two days into talking helped but after eight years I was ready and you weren’t all to shy or willing to say no either.  So blaming me and saying that this is about me has to stop.  You have your part in this and it’s time for you to claim it.  Be a grown ass man and own up to the fact that this is as much about you as it is me.  You get satisfaction out of having someone want you and want something that only you can give.  Own that.

Own that you are controlling me and that you get satisfaction from that.  That if you say Monday is “our day” than that’s what you’ve decided and if I really want to see you than I am going to “be okay with Monday”

I will own that I keep going back to you because sex is the only way I know how to get my deepest ache met.  I will own that being seen in the light while naked is the only way I know how to be loved and known.  I will own that I am scared to let anyone else see me naked.  Both in the literal and the metaphorical.  I’ll get vulnerable but only so far.  There are only a few people that know about you but I am getting ready to post this letter to my blog because I am tired of hiding and sex is nothing to be ashamed of.

The only thing I am ashamed of is that I don’t know how to love myself enough to stop going back to you.  I am repulsed by the words you say yet I keep calling you.

So now, as I write this I am deciding that I am not going go back again.  I have said this before after I have broken it off.  I have said that I am done, that I am worth more than allowing myself to be led on by you.  Regardless of what I say to you I know that you are going to believe whatever it is that you need to believe to appease your own conscious.

I know that it’s time for me to allow my wounded soul to heal.  And that goes way beyond you and our relationship (or lack thereof) I was wounded when I met you and allowed you and who you were and who I desperately wanted you to be to fill a space.  But spaces can only be filled with negative things for so long before they start to go sour.  The sourness hit me last night and I can’t anymore.

I have a long way to go before I can ever be anything to anyone else in the way they deserve.  And I have a long way to go before I can let a man see me, truly see me naked.  You held me, you touched me and you had me in a way that I haven’t allowed anyone to have since Abigail’s dad.  I think that is part of why my heart was and is so wounded by your words.  I stopped having sex and “gave my life to purity” after him because I truly wanted to believe that I had worth in the eyes of a man.  That my body was more than just a pleasure giver/receiver.

In the beginning you made me feel that way and then we stopped seeing each other after your nasty text messages on Christmas.  But I was the one who came back first, because I was lonely.  I was going through my court battle, I was in withdrawal, things were happening with my family and I knew you would notice me.  I knew you would see me.  Or at least I thought you were seeing me. But you never wanted to talk about anything or anyone but yourself.  It was always you and how awesome you are and how this is happening in your life and that is going on.  I could never get a word in edgewise.

You’re not the one. You never were.  I realize that I was using you as much as you were using me.  I needed you for something and though it’s hard to admit I allowed myself to continue doing it and to continue going back because without you in my life the cavern of empty grew larger and the echo of my tears was deafening.

That cavern might still be large and I might feel those tears again.  I’d rather feel them now though because I know that I am walking away from something that is killing my soul rather than crying because it’s not Monday and I don’t get to see you.

So this is goodbye.  I am not going to even give this to you.  I’ll probably send you a highly condensed text message so I don’t have to see you and you’ll reply with ok because you want me to think you don’t care.

I am tired of believing your lies.

Bethany

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