maybe I had a problem with commitments. So when we hung out ( after you came over to see Jamie and Simona ) , I feigned interest in you. You acted immature for your age ( 23 ) , wrapping my knotty belt around your thick waste , attemtping to stretch out the leather. You picked up my screen name and we started talking. It was akward and contrite at first; we talked about nothing. I thought that this was just normal getting-to-know-you jitters and formalities. I didn't realize that you were that shallow and unintelligent.
You told me that you weren't like "other guys" , as you refer to them. When I pointed out that all of the bad boyfriends I ever had used that line , it offended you. You said it was because you knew that you were better. I know now it's because you are convinced that you are better. You made a comment about my choices in everything - clothing , friends , music. You called me a whore ( because I had used drugs in the past , and apparently only whores would touch illegal substances ) right before telling me that you would rather a person snort crack than smoke marijuana. I should have left right then. It was two months.
But I didn't. Phai told me to. Jamie told me to. Jill told me to. Erica told me to. Brandy even told me to , and she isn't good at giving advice. "He tries to control you ," she said. She was right; he picked on my views , and told me that if we were to have any sort of future , I would have to be a stay-at-home mother and have his child , Vince B----- the 4th. No , thank you. I'm sorry that I think women are more than kitchen utensils. I'm sorry that I don't believe in racial discrimination. I am sorry that I disagree with some of the teachings of the Catholic church. I'm sorry that I'm me. The one thing that I truly am sorry about is that my stubborness got in the way of my happiness. I wanted my friends to be wrong about you. I wanted to be right about a guy , for once.
The first time I broke it off , you left me at the movies. "Reliable Phai" had to come and pick my sorry ass up. He told me so , although he never once rubbed it in. I didn't want to talk to you after that , but it was your birthday on Saturday. I left a voicemail that said "happy birthday" and nothing else.
We made a deal that , in a few weeks , you would visit , and we would talk , stricly as friends. Well , imagine my surprise when you insisted we were getting back together , insisting that I said I wanted it. When I said , let me think , I'm not sure , you tried to make me feel stupid again. Out of sheer worry , I agreed. I didnt' want to be stranded in Wilkes-Barre.
I dumped you the next day , over AIM. I was scared to see you. I didn't want you near me ever again. That was a Thursday night , a Thursday night I will never forget. It was January 30. You called me terrible names , awful names , accused me of cheating ( when YOU were running around on me ) , and swearing that my friends controlled my life. I was hurt , victim of a bruised ego , but happy , in a sick way. I knew that I could do it on her own , that I didn't need anyone else to ensure my happiness. I controlled my own life.
January 31 - Jordan , the greatest female friend that I have , invited me to a party at her friend's apartment. She told me that I needed to "rebel" ( he grew angry when I drank ) and "let loose". That I did - and , in the process , met several new people that made me feel as if I had a place there , although it was my first time meeting many of them. I met a bunch of "the girls" ( as Jordy calls them ) and three guys , to be exact ( three that I had conversations with , I met many more that I dont' recall). One of those guys was Mark. He's a Republican and very interested in political matters. That is the first and only time that I ever had a serious political discussion while smashed. It was liberating. You never cared about issues like that. The second one was Frank , the boyfriend of one of Jordy's close friends. He asked me where my boyfriend is ( there was many couples ) , and I laughed and said "Dumped the loser one day ago! I rule!". He patted me on the back and told me that any girl like me deserves a great boyfriend. He called me beautiful , which should have bothered me , but didn't. He met it as a compliment , not a sexual innuendo. Whenever you said it , it sounded filthy , mostly because it was your way to pry into my panties.
The third and most important meeting was with someone who is now very special to me. I met him early on in the night , and he more-or-less tailed me around the crowded , dingy apartment for the better part of the night. It was fun. That's right , Vince. I met my Eric the DAY AFTER I lost you , for good. Our relationship has progressed from drunken meeting to innocent online chatting to much , much more. He loves me , Vince , and I love him. That's right - I say that with pride. I don't hesitate. I don't care who knows.
The relationship I share with Eric is a happy surprise. He trusts me completely. I don't have to worry about him "partying" with shady girls. I don't have to go home at night feeling stupid or trashy because of a comment you made. I don't have to stick up for him to my friends. My family adores him. His family is normal. I don't have to worry about anything when I'm with him. We "debate" . . . well , everything. I love having someone out there to challenge me in my beliefs and ideas.
This letter has been much longer than I originally intended, and for that , I apologize. I can not fit how I feel about you into pages , or words , or maybe even chapters. My main point ( and why I chose to post this in here ) is this: Vincent B--- , I might have "lost" you ( as you oh-so-gracefully say it ) , but I found other things , better things.
They are , not in this order:
1.) Eric James
I love them both fiercely , albeit in different ways. Those things keep me going , always.
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