You never listened to me. If you had, you wouldn’t have told me how I was feeling. In fact, if you’d taken a moment to remove yourself from your own thoughts and opinions, we’d probably have communicated for the first time in our entire relationship. However, I do understand that it’s always difficult to see things from someone else’s point of view – especially when your head is rammed as far up your own arse as yours is. So, you’re forgiven.
There was no fairness in how you handled boys’ and girls’ nights. I prided myself on always insisting you went on boys’ nights with your friends. I even told you to go the same day I’d had an eye operation and wanted nothing more than to be in your arms, and loved, and looked after by you. But I believe boys’ nights are very important. As are girls’ nights. However, instead of returning the trust and faith I had in you to me on my girls’ nights, you’d just give me crap. In the end, the whole endeavour just wasn’t worth having to prove myself to you again and again – the real kicker being that I’d never done anything to make you feel I’d betray you in the first place.
My friends and family thought you were an absolute idiot. And whilst I fully own up to my own idiocy in staying with someone that those who loved me so clearly disapproved of, I continually hoped you’d try and get to know them. But you didn’t. Because at the end of the day, our entire relationship was about you and what you wanted. So, we’d go out with your friends, and see your family. Mine didn’t make the cut. Well, in a way, I’m sort of glad. Because you don’t deserve to spend time in the company of the incredible friends and family I’ve been blessed with. And I’d never want to punish them by making them spend time with you.
I faked it. Every single time. I know this may come as some surprise, and I’m not proud of it, but having to stroke your ego just became a little too much admin. I mean, grow a pair. Be a man. Don’t sit there and tell me how you can’t figure out what’s wrong with me. Rather, let’s re-examine the situation. I’ve never had any trouble by myself. So, maybe it was you. In fact, let’s just get it out there: it was you. And the fact that you couldn’t tell I was faking it – every single time – just goes to show that I wasn’t really a concern for you, merely a willing participant in your one man show.
Loving you made me feel like crap. You didn’t actually deserve to be loved by me. It felt so bad because it was never reciprocated. Where you were thoroughly dedicated to your own man show in the bedroom, the same applied to the love between us. It was completely one-sided and – now that time has passed, I can conclude – partly imagined on my behalf. I wanted so badly for you to live up to the glimpses of greatness and wonder that I thought I saw in you. Instead, you fell short. And, I’m sorry to say, left me and probably every other women you’ve ever dated, decidedly disappointed. Poor form.
I wish you luck, I do. I just don’t really care anymore where it is you that end up. Some say it’s best to remain friends with ex’s. Well, it’s taken me a while but I’m ready to say I wouldn’t choose to be your friend if you paid me. I have enough friends, good friends. You’d be an emotional parasite and I’m done living a life dedicated to the eternal pursuit of your happiness. Oh, and one more thing:
I hope that you catch an STD and your penis falls off, so you can continue with your one man show, and go f*#% yourself with it.