To the man who told me my sexual escapades were of the pornstar quality, and all the men like him, I pity you. I understand it must be so hard being the nice guy wanting his dick sucked but being perceived as a friend. I understand the misconception about sexual freedom you believed for so long. I mean it doesn't extend to women right? I even understand your shy nature hindering you from true love.
While I may understand it, I don't accept it.
You're the kind of men I will raise my daughters to stay away from. Their bodies are not on reserves for guys who are too afraid of confident women. Your close-minded, misogynist ways are what's keeping you from having anyone who won't use you. It must be baffling to hear that a weakling, I'm sorry woman, did what you couldn't.
How dare I go after what I want?
How dirty must I be to acknowledge my desires without male supervisor or suggestion?
If 6 is the magic number to turn me into a pornstar, then your 2 should have you married by now. Oh wait, that's right, you're alone. Does that low number assist you in your search for the wholesome girl? Such a pity that casual sex is a boy's only club that closed its doors to you but gave me a membership card.
Are you insulted? Why? If being a prude is who you are then why be mad? Embrace it fellas. And keep each other company.
Because no one else wants you.
You were eager like I used to be. 16 was the time of overindulging and man did I! I was addicted to having someone on my arm.
You were the first person I wanted to make a forever with. You gave me hope that we could grow into our roles as soulmates. I actually called you my soulmate, well not to your face. I had just met you in computer class and we couldn't legally go on a field trip without permission let alone try to forge a union.
Give me commands. Clear guidelines. An itemized list of your needs.
You were exactly what I asked for. A carbon copy straight out of my mind. I should have been more careful.
When I tell you I love you, it doesn't mean we go together now. It doesn't mean I want your children. It doesn't mean I need to meet your family. I love you means I love who you are as a person. I have surpassed like and landed on love.
If you could, please disregard the previous letter left on your pillow. That has too much hubris dripping. Too much anger. Too many other emotions that negatively influenced the creation of that notice.
This is your eviction notice. Your placeholder, an unattainable musician, is helping me move your memories. Not sure where they'll go but at this point, I don't want to know.
I'm sick of the men in their feelings and not knowing how harmful and/or annoying they are with them.
You could be a better man, slay dragons, discover the greatest side of yourself. I could put you on the path of soul repair. I'm the kind of woman who makes real power players. I could be your Claire, Mr. Underwood.