I am so young. I am young enough to still have a “-teen” at the end of my age. I am young enough that I cannot dream of a world beyond classes and textbooks. I am young enough that signing my first apartment lease is exciting. I am young enough that ten months seems like a long time to be with someone — but apparently, not long enough to make me be faithful.
Let me say from the beginning: This is certainly not to provoke sympathy. This is to confess.
I promise that I didn’t plan on it. I was stopping by to see how he was. I was wearing my favorite t-shirt bra, nothing fancy, with an old flannel and comfy jeans. My hair was up and my face was bare and there was no mysterious or sultry eye contact made.
We talked about classes and studying abroad and the things we used to say we would do but haven’t gotten around to yet. Neither of us even dared to bring up an old inside joke or poke fun at the other. We were merely trying to be civil.
“He kissed me first” is not an excuse. “He touched me first” is not an excuse.
Because I let him.
It was not seductive, nor sweet, nor the reignited sparks that I thought I might feel at first. We slipped our clothes back on afterward, silently, by ourselves, because we were both lost and alone. I felt dirty and scarred and, as I slipped out the door and started driving back home, I found myself crying at the steering wheel. It was not glamorous. It was not satisfying.
But still — do I tell you?
There is a part of me that wants you to know. I want you to get upset. I want you to yell at me and hate me and make me feel cruel and cold because that’s probably what I deserve.
But is this worth it if it means I must also break your heart?
I don’t deserve your love or forgiveness, yet you don’t deserve to know that the girl you’re in love with could do something like this to you.
It is time for me to stop holding onto you so selfishly. It is time for me to let you go find the girl whose soul is as pure as yours and who will help you grow into the man you deserve to become.