unsent letter


You put all your stuff in our shed and moved away.  You said you would come back in six months.  I txted you as you journeyed north, and I loved you so much; I almost asked you to turn around.

When that volunteer palm tree was growing next to the house too long ignored, I asked you to come dig it out because the tree company’s estimate was a thousand dollars.  I wondered if you had any reason to return related to the sale of your house.  You said you’d consider it.

I said we could pay you $300 to dig out the tree, and your trip would be paid for.  Really I wanted to make love with you in the guest room and have the deep satisfaction of your body.  To eat pupusas with you again and be near you.

We pretended for some time that you were coming back.  But the lady up north, you formed a company with her making pandemic masks.  You said you wanted to make masks for me and my spouse and asked for preferences.

I said, “I like just about all the colors, but no animal print.”  You thought I would like one with a feather print and checked in, in case that counted as animal print.  I said feathers were ok.


The masks were supposed to be a gift, but your girlfriend sent us the bill.  I was like–uh, ok.  I payed her invoice for the masks and shipping, creeped out that I was being charged $45 for your gift.

When the masks arrived, I kept the patterned envelope for a long time on my desk.  I’d never seen your handwriting, so I wasn’t sure if the handwriting of the address was yours or hers.

You wanted pics of us wearing the masks for promoting your business, so I took a pic of my spouse wearing the feather mask and sent it to you at your request.  I would do anything to help you.


Eventually I realized you were never going to be there for me, and you were not moving back.  You hurt me many times, and I finally was sure it was you, not me.   A friend in another city who had crossed paths with you years before confirmed you are a user and creep.

Our relationship was vaporware.  You accepted my adoration at your convenience.  I was wasting my time, a kind lady on the backburner in your former town, and I had no interest in occupying that role: someone you could keep slightly connected to, in case you wanted to use me more later.

You talked to my spouse only when you wanted something from him. He had adored you.  Fuck you for wasting so much of his time.

I stopped speaking to you entirely and asked my spouse to ask you when you would get your stuff out of our shed.  At first you ignored him.  Then you set a date.


I felt like I was going to barf, when you and your girlfriend came here to clear out the shed.  I stayed indoors and txted friends about the panic I was fending off.  It took a couple days.

My spouse reported that you and your girlfriend were rude to each other.  I thought probably your relationship wouldn’t last, as you are a self-centered pompous ass, and you choose mates based on what they can do for you and get for you, not love.  Using people is all you know how to do.

The second day of work, it was just you and my spouse in the driveway.  You made overtures to him, like you would like to hang out, and my spouse was not having it.  “I don’t really understand what Nest is so upset about.  I don’t see what the problem was, here,” you said by the mailbox.

Pretending you were a good person, you had not broken my heart, and you had not left a trail like this all over the US and Europe, of kind hearted lovers who had trusted and believed you.

My spouse said, “Ok, I’ll see you another time,” and you finally drove away, hopefully out of our lives forever.


I found the feather mask in the backseat of my spouse’s car the other day.  We put it in the wash, and the drier too.  I felt inside the mask, the shop towel you used as a liner was all wadded up.

The mask has a gap, so I carefully fished out parts of shop towel.  Part was still sewn in, so I carefully ripped it out and pulled it through the hole.  Ripping the shop towel out felt strangely satisfying, to destroy part of the feather mask.

The elastic is looser, but it still fits well, and I wore it to my last day of physical therapy.

porn star

Fuck you for holding my hand, letting me believe you loved me, saying you would return, wordplay, broken promises, and not minding when I mentioned your girlfriend had charged us for the masks.  Fuck you for saying your wife was unreasonable because she was autistic, and your selfish misogynist fuckery was totally reasonable.

Mostly fuck you for manipulating my spouse.  Breaking my heart is cruel–breaking his was unforgivable.  You are a bad person.  You have no integrity, you give porn stars a bad name, and I hate your fucking guts.

Please leave me alone always.  I pity the next people you dupe into loving your cold, selfish, entitled, bullshit performance.  Everyone who meets you should just say no.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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