If someone would’ve told me that I’d be writing an open letter to you as my ex-boyfriend, I swear on everything, I wouldn’t have believed them.
From before we even met in real life, when we’d talk on the phone all night into the morning like kids in high school — I just knew.
I just knew that we were meant to be and that we’d be together forever.
I remember early one morning I’d gone for a walk with my mom (this was before I had ever even stood with you face to face)… I imagined the two of us clear as day in my mind.
The two of us standing on a cliffside, overlooking the ocean, exchanging rings and saying I do’s.
The vision was so clear and felt so real, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before.
When we finally met in person, as we spent more time together, I felt more and more drawn to you.
I felt good with you. I felt safe with you. I felt I was exactly where I was supposed to be — with you.
I remember instinctively desiring to help you. To be of service to you. I wanted to do everything in my power to do good for you. To build a life. To build an empire with you.
I wanted to give my all to you. To fall for you. To trust you fully and to be yours completely.
And so how things ended so nastily. With such despise. With such hate. With such resentment… I’m still not over it.
Truthfully, it’s been months since we last spoke and I’m still not over you.
I always prided myself on being a good ex-girlfriend. The kind of ex-girlfriend you keep in touch with. The kind of ex-girlfriend with whom you remain friends.
In this case, you are the exception to the rule. In this way, and so many others.
Because you’re the first ex-boyfriend I ever hated. I mean really fucking despised. I hated you like I never hated anyone in my life.
I imagined coincidentally bumping into you someplace and ignoring the fuck out of you. I imagined exactly how I’d scowl, how I’d roll my eyes, how I’d totally disregard you.
I imagined that if perhaps a part of you secretly wanted to be with me still, the total disdain I’d reciprocate.
I’m ashamed and embarrassed to admit that I wished everything bad for you at some point. But you were an exception in another way too.
I think I hated you this much when things fell apart because you’re the only man I ever really loved.
You know how sometimes you wonder if you loved a person from your past? Love can be hard to quantify, right?
With you… I know that I loved you for sure.
When I push past my feelings of hate and resentment, and I think back to the time we were together, I loved so many things about you. I loved so many things about us.
I loved waking up in the morning to the sounds of your music selection, dependant on whatever mood you might have been in that morning — the house filled with the smell of bacon and fried sweet potato slices. I loved watching you work — focused and diligent. I loved going to bachata dance class with you — it really was a lot of fun when we weren’t arguing about doing the moves just right. I loved snuggling up on the couch watching the latest episode of some show and falling asleep in your arms.
But the way I felt like absolute trash when we fought (omg, so many fights)… all the good times just pale in comparison.
You managed to know exactly how to trigger so many of my insecurities. Insecurities I had, unbeknownst to me at the time.
I don’t blame you for this.
We sucked at communicating. And I feel like you just didn’t understand me. But truth be told I was also struggling to understand myself.
I don’t think you realized at the time how you managed to break my heart to the core. To break my spirit irreparably. The paramount rejection I felt.
I remember you accusing me of wanting you to validate me? As if it was so absurd? As if I was needy? Insecure? Broken?
Well, you were right.
I wish you could have understood that my desiring your validation was totally valid.
Yes, I needed your validation. I craved it desperately.
Not for my individual self-esteem or for my ego. But for my esteem in our relationship. As your partner. As your woman.
Just as you needed to feel respected by me, I needed to feel valued by you. Appreciated by you. Cherished by you.
You wouldn’t know the turmoil I went through when you asked me that time what I brought to the table (I don’t think I’ll ever get over that). And then me like a whole idiot standing there trying to defend what in fact I did bring to the table. To validate and prove my worth to you.
That was ultimately the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. From that, there was just no coming back.
Reflecting on our breakup, I learned a lot from our relationship. I still have a lot to learn. But thank you for those lessons.
Also, thank you for loving me. For the time you did. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to love you.
I don’t hate you anymore, most days. Just some days. And with time my disdain, heartbreak, and dismay dwindle.
To say you will always hold a special place in my heart sounds so fucking stupid and cliche. But it’s the truth.
My love was not perfect. And neither was I.
But I loved you immensely, just know. I still love you. I think on some level I always will.
I’m not sorry for the fucked up shit I did after our breakup. You deserved that shit because you were mean and petty AF (but I’m also petty AF), and so with regards to that, fuck you… I’d do it again.
I do wish all the best for you going forward in your life. Let me tell it… you’re a good man. A hardworking, loving, exceptional one. And you really deserve everything good in this world. I wish that for you.
Sometimes I wonder where we’d be had we agreed to go to therapy. Do you think we could have made it work? I almost do.
Either way. I hope one day God blesses me with a love like the one I imagined we’d have — overlooking the ocean on that cliff saying I do’s.