Relevant Circa 2017; a note, he didn't love me either.
To the girl who doesn't know I'm ruining her life.
Hi,
I'm not really sure how to tell you this, so I guess I'll just start this out conversational. You're perfect. Or at least that's how it seems. You're beautiful, smart, and I'm guessing you're pretty funny too. He wouldn't like you if you weren't funny. You're sweet and supportive. The kind of girl you take home to your mom and show off.
But here it goes, I've been sleeping with your boyfriend. For months. All semester in fact.
See, I didn't mean to ruin your relationship, it just sort of happened.
Since we're talking now, I guess I should start from the beginning.
I'm finishing my first year of grad school and it's been hell. I thought (much like I'm sure you did) that I had a super supportive boyfriend. We'd been together since high school. Sure, much of our relationship was distance, but that didn't matter because I loved him blindly. I loved him even though he drank way too much, even though he used drugs, even though he dropped out of college and works at a factory, even though I gave him way too much of myself. So much of myself that I gave up on myself completely. Yet, today even though I've been screwing your boyfriend, I still love my ex-boyfriend.
Whoops. Sorry if this is all over the fucking place. My thoughts are pouring out of me like a civ.
So when I came back to school in January, I should've been happy. I should've been rejuvenated and I should have been excited to see my boyfriend at valentine's day. However, those 6 weeks were dauntingly long. So much so that my boyfriend agreed to come up in two weeks...and then he didn't. He had to work. Factory life calls you know? Or...I guess you don't. Regardless my heart hurt. So I went out with my friends that weekend instead. The first time I've ever been out in Milwaukee—I only turned 21 a couple weeks before Christmas break. I danced with a boy. Not your boyfriend, not this time, but one of his friends. A few days later that boy was in my bed...he wanted so much from me but all I did was kiss him. That's not so bad right? I felt awful. So I told my boyfriend.
Three weeks. Three weeks it would take before my boyfriend after an alcohol fueled night, decided we were fine—he wasn't angry with me. Too bad that the week before I went to the bar again, and this time my dear, this is where I met your boyfriend.
We were so drunk.
I wish I could tell you that was it. I wish I could tell you that one time we were so drunk and it was a mistake I never repeated. However, you and I both know at this point wishes don't come true. You're wishing you weren't reading this, you're wishing it wasn't true. I'm wishing I could take it all back, wishing I could mend the heart that I'm breaking because I'm so sorry.
We were so drunk.
The night we met. We danced all night. His friends saw us together, our mutual friends saw us together, no one stopped us. I said to one friend "he has a girlfriend" and her response was "you have a boyfriend." Maybe that was why. Maybe they all thought that because we were both in relationships, we'd dance, regret it in the morning and move on. They were wrong.
At some point in the night, I put my number in his phone when he offered it. I could've said no, but I didn't. He texted me after we left the bar that night. Still drunk he told me about you, and I told him about my boyfriend. I knew about you and he knew about him. Yet two nights later, it was my bed he was in for the first time.
And then, then we were a thing. Once a week until sometime in March. When I couldn't deal with the guilt anymore. Every damn day was an existential crisis for me. How could I do this to my boyfriend? To you? To your boyfriend? What the fuck was I doing? What the fuck was your boyfriend doing? Now I can't control your boyfriend, but I can control myself, so I broke up with my boyfriend. It hurt. It still hurts. I still mourn my relationship I ruined. The plans to get married, to move to Minnesota, to have a corgi and hunting dog for him, to have three children—ruined because I couldn't keep my damned legs shut.
