Letters to My Ex-Lovers

I write because it gives me great relief. I’ve lived the majority of my life feeling somewhat misunderstood, and if not misunderstood, feeling like no one was really there for me unconditionally (minus my amazing family). But when I have the opportunity to write, it’s as if I have that friend that’s there, listening. So you, my friends, are the receivers of my rants. You’re welcome (or I’m sorry…whichever aligns to you)!

I believe that most things in life, including the people we come into contact with, are lessons for us. Especially the most painful relationships. There’s always a lesson in there and unfortunately with it comes a tremendous amount of pain. It takes a long time, but eventually I can look back at a relationship and thank the pain for teaching me the lesson. And as part of my healing, I wanted to put a letter out to the guys that have impacted me most on my journey of life. These relationships were some of the most painful experiences of my life, but I thank them. Most of these words have been left unsaid to the men they tie to, and this is my opportunity to say my piece.

I encourage anyone who is struggling to write a letter like this. Save it, hide it, burn it. Do whatever you want with it. But getting it out helps the pain and processing, and also helps foster the gratitude for the experience. I hope that these letters to my ex-lovers inspire you to reflect and learn your lessons.

xo M

To the one I adored: You were funny, witty and kind. You appreciated me and all that I did for you. You believed in me, and still do. We’re actually kind of friends. The kind of friends you don’t see or really talk to but call each other friends nonetheless.  I don’t see you because it still hurts. I don’t see you because I don’t want to be reminded of why I still love you. I don’t see you because I don’t want to believe that you can’t see yourself for the man that you are; that you lack the awareness and motivation to make a better life for yourself. You were always enough for me. You just weren’t enough for yourself.

I loved so many things about you. I loved how you loved animals and documentaries. I loved that you loved The Crossfit Games and Husky football. I loved that you hated Blue Friday, and that you knew someone everywhere we went. I loved your extensive collection of gym shorts and shoes, and how you always needed more. I loved your wittiness and how you always had something funny to say.  I loved that everything I cooked for you was the best thing you ever ate. I loved that you believed in me. You were a true delight in my life.

Today I received an empty, “Happy New Year” text from you, like the general one you post on your Facebook page. When I read it, my heart sank. “That’s it?” I thought. It brought me back to where we were on New Year’s Eve last year. It was the first time I’d had you around my kids for longer than a couple of hours. I remember you complaining that one of them was hitting you in the balls. You complained over and over again. I apologized, over and over again. You didn’t know how to handle kids but you did your best. I remember telling you that night these words: “I know I’m a lot to deal with, my life. It’s ok if it’s too much for you. I get it.” You were so angry with me for speaking those words, like I had insulted the type of person you were. I was just trying to give you an out if you wanted it. My life isn’t easy to deal with on many levels. But you stayed. For nine months. And then, you were gone. Turns out my life was too much for you. Months of you slowly pulling away from me until you were barely around at all, even though you lived 5 minutes away. Months of me feeling alone; making excuses for why you weren’t here. Months of listening to you claim you were too tired or needed more sleep or couldn’t afford to be woken up by my kids (who adored you) at 6:30 am. The excuses were lame and I wished you would have just been honest with me about it. But I’ve seen this before: the man who makes things bad so that she finally throws in the towel and walks away. You got to be the victim and I got to be the bad guy.

The past few months without you have been really hard. I think about you here and there, and ultimately come to the conclusion that you just weren’t ready for me at this point in your life. I truly do love you. If ever there was a second chance, you’d get it. But a lot would need to happen, and you know that. So for now, I hope that you find your way. I’m pulling for you.

To the one who had me chemically: I don’t know what it was about you, but I was drawn to you like a moth to a flame from the beginning. I met you on Tinder of all places. The one thing I remember about you was how you approached me online. It was unusual. You never once asked me, “How’s your day?” or told me I was beautiful (which are the most used opening lines in my experience). You asked about my projects at work. And at the time, we worked in similar industries. I met you fairly quickly (which I appreciated) and we had a great time together. Things shifted after a month or so for you as you embarked on a new career endeavor and eventually you realized I wasn’t worth your trouble. Even though things between us were never that serious, I was new to dating and didn’t quite know how to handle someone like you.

You were funny and very mid-western. You had a great laugh and great lips. You were one of the best kissers I’ve ever encountered and damn, I always wanted more. The chemistry between us was magnetic and I have yet to feel that same way with anyone else. But you were slightly withdrawn and left me feeling like I never really knew what was going on in your head. Like you had an incredible wall built around your heart. Our communications were spotty at best and I remember often wondering if you really liked me or not. Like it was never clear. I was never made to feel special to you.  Our romance was short lived but intense and ended when shit got real. You chose to walk away. I was devastated.

Several months later, I received a lovely letter from you. That meant the world to me, just so you know. And months after that, you called me and told me if I was ever available, you’d want another chance. When I became single again, I told you and we went out a couple of times. And then, just like the past, you disappeared. But this time you didn’t end it. There were no words of closure spoken. You just disappeared. Gone. 

At this point, after giving you two chances, I figured if you couldn’t follow up with me and effectively date me, it was a waste of my time to pursue you. As much as I craved the chemical reaction I had when I was with you, I knew it would only bring me pain if you couldn’t be what I needed you to be. So I let it go. I let you go. I chalked the chemistry up to a life lesson: don’t be fooled by how you feel when you’re with him, but pay attention to how you feel without him. And without you, I felt stronger.

It appears today via social media that you've found someone to commit to. It's hard for me to accept that I wasn't good enough for your commitment but that's my lesson in all of this: if you're left wondering how he feels about you, he doesn't feel anything.

To the one who changed my life: I could never have expected anything of this magnitude to occur in my life. You were a true catalyst in every sense of the word. You came into my life when I was at my very lowest. You showed me love in a form I hadn’t experienced in many years. You were a whirlwind of emotion, feeling, chemistry and bad news. I couldn’t have you, and you couldn’t have me.

I look back on those days with pure amazement. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced in my life, a connection that took hold of me like a tornado picking up a tumbleweed; swirling me around and around and finally dropping me to the ground miles from where it picked me up. The intensity of our connection was unworldly and to this day, I think of you as my soulmate. And while “soulmate” has various definitions in our society, I view your place in my life as a catalyst for change. You came to teach me a lesson. And boy, that lesson was legit.

I haven’t spoken to you in years and that saddens me. I appreciate what you’ve shown me and you have had such a profound effect on my life. I only wish that we could be friends. I know now that a romantic relationship was never in the cards for us. But I do regret not being able to stay in touch. You were a very special man and a special part of my life, as short-lived and crazy as it was.

To the one who pretended to be my friend: While our “situationship” was unusual at best, it worked. Until it didn’t. I’d text and talk to you every day. You were there for me. Until you weren’t. You told me over and over again that you were different; that you honored and respected me; that you wouldn’t treat me like the rest. You promised me that you weren’t out to hurt me. But you did. And probably worse than any of the others.

Your silence is more painful than any words you could say to me. You claimed to understand my pain; you listened to me talk about the betrayal in my life and how it affected me. And you were so adamant that I didn’t deserve that. You told me so frequently that I didn’t deserve to be taken from anymore. Yet here I am, having been taken from again. You’ve left me questioning who you are and what I meant to you. So thank you for perpetuating my beliefs in men in general. Thank you for showing me that you are no different than the rest. Thank you for lying to me and taking from me, just like the others you warned me about. You’ve managed to build my guard up even more; the one you said I needed to let down. Thanks for proving me right.