I’m Not Sorry I Fucked Your Boyfriend

I’m sorry you blame me.

I didn’t intend to sleep with a man who was already accounted for romantically. In fact, I had been there, done that, cried, and said farewell to being some scumbag’s mistress only a year or two previously. But when I met him, I didn’t stand a chance. Deep in my own pit of self loathing and depression, he saved me. He gave me something to look forward to, something to care about. He was the first person who made me feel anything apart from the oxycontin comatose I was growing to love.

But then I found out about You, the Real Girlfriend. Suddenly, a tidal wave, no, a tsunami of earth-shaking proportions encompassed me. The second You became real, every nerve ending in my body seemed to electrify. It was like I could feel the blood rushing in my stomach, like if someone touched me, static electricity would emanate from every pore in my body. You do not fully grasp the immense pain I felt knowing my messiah was a fraud.

But he told me You were gone. He said those words to me, and suddenly I felt the electricity in my body polarize. The shocking ceased.

I hope You know he hurt me too. I was addicting to him. But he was my substitute for every drug I put in my body before our paths. The mere mention of You, your name, your dog, made me feel like everything I loved was going to be taken away from me. And I loved him.

I’m not sorry I fucked your boyfriend though. Less because I truly did not know he was your boyfriend, and more because instead of feeling any sort of empathy for me, You blamed me. I’m not crazy, I’m not obsessive, and most of the time he pursued me. He told me he loved me. He lied, of course, but the words came out of his mouth more than once. He told me he hated You.

More so, I’ve been You. I’ve been the girlfriend of a cheater. I never met the girls my boyfriend fucked with animosity, however. I met them with sadness. A man had lied to them, hurt them, and reinforced whatever trust issues they already had. I would never want that for another woman. But You seem to be fine with that for me. I feel nothing but sadness for You, but I do not feel apologetic. I never asked to be included in your sick, twisted relationship. I was thrown in without my permission.

I hope someday You see me for what I truly am: a human being. I am not the evil villain, hell-bent on causing You pain. I’m a person who has felt enough of that emotion for the both of us. I can only pray the next girl he entangles in your relationship comes out less bruised and blistered than I did. But I am not sorry.