The manipulative email you sent me, after three years of silence, has been bothering me. I’m thinking about what you lost when you chose to treat me like shit until I finally successfully broke up with you. I can’t believe you harmed me so harshly, yet you’re still knocking on my door. It was so much work to break free of you. I wish you’d leave me alone.
But I can see why you want a place in my life again. I gave you so much.
When you abused me, painting me into a smaller and smaller corner, criticizing my spouse, telling me who I shouldn’t be friends with, stringing me along, criticizing me harshly, while accepting zero negative feedback…of course I would only put up with that for so long. Your ex remained connected to you, and you believed I was like her. You thought I’d be back. No, I’m smarter than that and fortunately have more resources.
What you lost was a solid friend and someone who adored you. I would have done almost anything for you. For more than a year I saw all you did and said in the best light possible.
I helped you in any way I could, accepting your phone call from jail. We took you to my previous home, beautiful gardens, an intimate concert of a musician you loved, to California, hot springs, to dinner countless times. I helped you move when you were being evicted, down to finding your apartment and collecting boxes for you, arranging the moving truck, and working until 3 am to get you out of your previous place.
What you lost when I got free of you is what many people are looking for: a kind, caring, affectionate, creative, brilliant lover. No wonder you can’t stop checking up on me on the internet–you threw away gold. I wish you’d just accept you fucked up something wonderful with your violence, and move on. Leave me alone.
You dazzled me with your way of life, bright ideas, and hippie bullshit. I loved your soothing touch. But actual love was nothing you would do for me. You knew what compassion, generosity, and honesty are, because that’s what I gave to you, but you’d never give that to me. It was one way–the love was flowing from me to you, along with a ton of resources.
What you lost was your gentlest victim. But I know you can find another naive, big-hearted disabled lady to use. Maybe you’re in between women and more motivated to reel me back in.
I exist to do my life’s work, which isn’t being abused by you. My ancestors didn’t strive to get me here and hand me their gifts, for me to throw them away on a user such as yourself.
not for you
You are not a safe person for me, and you are not welcome to any part of me–past, present, or future. My art, kindness, attention, ideas, spirit, and body are not for you.
You’re one more charming user white guy whose act I fell for, and I denounce you. There are so many of you, and you are no better than any of them.
- the pathetic trust fund porn star
- inappropriate non-committal poetry teacher
- avoidant artist cocaine addict
- entitled egomaniacal activist organizer
- perpetual victim philosophy professor
All of you got as much out of me as you could, then tried to frame the experience as me harming you. Yikes.
So strange how common the act is, and I’m done. I waited for my rapist to die because he would do the same thing as you, checking in every few years to see if he could exploit me further. No–the answer is no. I will never be thirsty enough to drink your poison again.