I guess I don’t really know how to begin this, but I guess I’ll start saying that I miss you. I miss you, and I miss feeling that way about someone. I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, to make you change your mind, or to profess again how I feel about you. There are no ulterior motives, but sometimes a man just has to admit the truth. Whatever happened, I’m over it. Truly and honestly, I’m over it. It hasn’t been easy forgetting and quashing those feelings, but it’s been done to the best of my ability. Some of that has been trying to keep busy, and another significant part has simply been going out with a lot of women. You can call it stupid, but drowning out feelings by rotating through a multitude of women is actually incredibly effective. If you thought that was stupid, this next thing is just going to seem petty and infantile. Every girl that I’ve gone out with since, has been prettier than you. I wish I could tell you that it was all subconscious, but it’s not. Yeah, it’s shitty, and I know that. It was my way of saying “fuck you” for rejecting me, even though you literally would have no conceivable way of ever receiving the message. Frankly, my recent run with women has been nothing short of extraordinary. You would of course call me out on a douchey brag like that, but the truth of the matter is I would’ve traded every single bit of it for something real with you.
There was never a boring moment with you. Sometimes I lie awake thinking of what to say to these girls after they wake up, or just another possible topic of conversation because we’ve exhausted just about everything we had in common. With you, conversation was easy, and more importantly, you actually listened. You were sarcastic and witty to a fault, but I fucking loved it. I had a girl tell me over dinner her thoughts on how the moon landing was faked and how easily scientists should be able to cure cancer. It took all the self-control I had not to slash my wrists with the butter knife in what would’ve been a slow and excruciating death, but a coin toss to see which was the worse experience. You never gave yourself enough credit for how fiercely intelligent you are, and could trade blows with me on every subject, and absolutely kick my ass when it came to anything regarding art.
You can ask me why I submit myself to this carousel of dating, and the answer is, sure, I don’t feel the way I felt about you when I go out with these women, but I hope that maybe somewhere along the line, I find someone where maybe feelings like that can come from nothing. Or maybe I get lonely, and I decided that I don’t have to feel that way while I wait for something real to come around. I know going in that these things will be temporary, and I’m honest to a fault with them about that. On that, I can sleep easy, but who the fuck knows, maybe I’ve just been lying to myself. If my ‘success’ with women lately is because I’m nonchalant and emotionally aloof about the whole thing, then fuck it. To hell with all of that. I hate not being able to solve a problem, I hate being stuck. I hate being stuck on something I should’ve moved on from a while ago. Maybe I just miss actually caring about someone, or maybe I actually miss you. I don’t know anymore, and I hate not knowing.
Because one thing I can do something about, the other, I can’t.