I woke up this morning feeling sad. I realized something: we met too soon. You met me when I just graduated from college, I didn’t know what I want, I didn’t know who I really was, or am. Back then, all I wanted was just fun, no strings attached, and I thought you’re the perfect guy for that. You gave me hot sex, you taught me stuff about sex, and you’re the apple of my eye. So why shouldn’t we become friends with benefits?
The rain has been falling all day, and I can’t get you out of my mind. I’m not saying that you haven’t crossed my mind before today. No, you constantly cross my mind, even after months after I’ve stopped seeing you. I fell in love with you. There was time when I didn’t just have sex with you, but made love. I think I told you about that, how I developed feelings for you, and you, being the mature one in our so-called relationship, you told me to wipe that feeling off if I want us to keep fucking.
Yes, we used the word ‘fucking’ quite a lot.
I tried and I think I succeeded, or I thought so? I believe you gave me more than just hot sex or a lesson on how to give the best blow job. I still remember how you told me to find what I actually want in life, to never crowd my mind with useless stuff like those assholes I met at bars, or how you told me that I’m very young I shouldn’t waste my life with alcohol. You influenced me in some way and that’s because I have feelings for you, that’s why I listened to you and why I still remember everything you ever said to me. So I guess I’m not over you.
Of course, I’m still not over you. That’s the one reason why I started writing this. This very moment, today, this minute, is the moment I realized how much I’ve been lying to myself about how you meant to me. Of all the guys I met these past couple years, you are the only one that was ever worth it. I shouldn’t lie to myself and I shouldn’t treat yourself as a sex object only to convinced myself that you mean nothing to me, that I don’t love you. You don’t deserve that, and I don’t deserve that either.
You deserve to know that there is this one girl who fell madly in love with you from the very first time she talked with you. That there is this one girl who kept having sex with you just to be able to feel you. That there is this one girl who constantly thought about you from the very first time you saw her and she saw you. I need you to know that.
That leads us to this question, “What if?”
What if you met the present me? The more satisfied me, who knows what she wants in her life, who she really is, and who she wants to be with? The more sexually experienced me, who knows what she wants when it comes to sex, when she wants it, what turns her on or off, who’s okay with admitting that she does masturbate because she stops having sex with random guy just to feed her ego.
Maybe we’d have a different story? Maybe I’d know how to handle you when you’re having one of those bad days, because I know how to handle myself. Maybe I’d love you the proper way because I know how to love myself. Maybe I wouldn’t lie to you about getting over you because you should know when you’re loved. Maybe I’d tell you how much I want to be with you because I know what I want.
I wish we hadn’t met that soon.