I know I told you that I’d let it go, but I lied. I thought I was the better person and that I could move on from this by forgiving you. But your transgressions, plural, let’s not forget, were too egregious to wash away.
You made things difficult from the start- not wanting to commit when I laid my heart out there. I should’ve seen that as a warning sign but instead I took it as a challenge. I always look for challenges, needing to prove myself worthy time and again. In our case, I was right.
I was a sensitive and passionate partner. I took care of your needs, often before my own, and you hardly even noticed. You took advantage, however passively it started, and then you grew to expect it.
When you’d told me what you did, it was obvious you knew it was wrong, but that seemed secondary to your desire for immediate forgiveness. You confessed as a formality, assuming I’d just be impressed by the gesture and let you get back to business as usual. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to forgive, even though I skirted around the actual word. It was my actions that led you to believe I was fine with it. The sex and the long embraces that I secretly hoped would confirm your love for me only solidified the fact that it was now time to let it end. I’m sad and regret the time I’ve lost with you: I need to forgive myself, not you.
And so I must say goodbye and ask that you pack your stuff and leave. I need my space back.
© 2021 Jeff E. Brown. All rights reserved.