A Letter To The Girl Who Keeps Getting Hurt

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Dear pick-and-choose gal:

I’m flattered, I truly am. For years I got you flowers, helped you when you needed help, bought you presents, was there when you needed support. Yeah, I was your go-to guy, the one you could depend on. But, you said “oh you’re such a good FRIEND” and instead chose the guy with the football jacket. You chose the guy with the trust fund who could buy you anything and everything. You chose the guy with the car who would make your friends jealous. And when each and every one of them abused you emotionally, physically, verbally or sexually, I was there to support you, not because I’m “such a good friend”, but because I genuinely loved you. I was always there for you, every single time.

You say you learned from your past mistakes, but how could that be when you flit and fly from one abusive bad boy relationship to the next? So many times while wiping away your tears, the words “I told you this would happen again” were on the tip of my tongue. but I held it, because even after all this I still cared for you, but deep down inside I knew this situation of being your comfort blanket would come again, watching you suffer as you throw yourself at people who hurt you over and over. But that’s slowly going away, covered by clothes covered in tears mixed with makeup after the time the trust fund guy showed up to your date with another woman. It’s covered in tears and vomit after the guy with the car forced himself on you. It’s covered in your blood after the football star got drunk and hit you. And each time I was here for you, ready to be your Nice Guy. But when I let it slip that I loved you, you only thought of me as a friend. And then, crystal clarity: You never wanted me to begin with. You wanted someone to clean you up when you’re down. You wanted someone to comfort you, to make you feel better after hard times, to make you feel better after you make bad decisions, to accept responsibility for your actions so you do not have to.

I’m tired of being your personal medic, tired of being your shoulder to cry on, I’m tired of being there for you when you have zero interest in how I feel. You toy with the emotions Mr Nice Guy and expect me to just be there every time to catch you when you fall, even after you emotionally abuse me like this? I’m sorry but that over inflated sense of entitlement is exactly what drove us away in the first place. Now that you actually want us, we’ve dealt with years of being used for our kindness and abused for it, having our feelings stomped until we’re jaded and cynical. Your promises mean nothing to me, for years you promised never to date another bad boy again but then show up on my doorstep with mascara streaming down your face weeks later from the next flavor of the month.

So, the only thing left to say is…

You made your bed. Lay in it. TC mark

image – Bhumika Bhatia

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