Dear Mr. Rocker

A friend of mine told me that I should write a letter to Mr. Rocker, get all my feelings out and then not send it.

This has been therapeutic for me in the past.

So instead of writing him an actual letter…

Dear Mr. Rocker,

When we met over a year ago at karaoke, I thought you were a nice guy that sang some fun songs.  I was going back then with the Accidental Relationship and you were pretty careful not to step on any toes.

We soon became friends.  You started to defend me and tell me how much you hated the AR for the way he treated me.  You made me feel like you were a true friend and had my best interest at heart.

During the NBA playoffs in 2014, you asked me to go to the bar to watch a game with you.  I agreed.  I like basketball, I like bars and I like good company with friends. When you showed up, you were wearing a jersey, tucked in to your jeans and driving a PT Cruiser.  I know I shouldn’t judge, but I a little bit was.  It didn’t ultimately matter because we were friends.

There was no attraction before that night and there was no attraction that night.  As a matter of fact, you had no idea that I gave my number to the bartender that night.

On July 1, 2014, all the regulars were at karaoke, celebrating my 39th birthday.   I had WAY too much to drink and as I was leaving with some mutual friends, I kissed you. I shouldn’t have.  But hey, I was drunk and you were being nice.  You brought cupcakes for goodness sake! Believe me, you weren’t the only person I kissed that night.  It happens.  I won’t lie to you, it was a nice kiss.  But that was all it was.  A nice kiss.  No feelings, no attraction.  No nothing.

For my birthday, you had bought me tickets to go see KISS and Def Leppard in concert.  I was excited to see Def Leppard.  I know a couple songs by them.  I didn’t really care about KISS, one way or the other, but was looking forward to it.  On July 3rd, you picked me up in your PT Cruiser and had a dozen long-stemmed red roses for me.  Said “a pretty girl deserves pretty flowers on her birthday”.  Ok, fine.

The concert was good.  I had a good time.  The KISS show was great and when Def Leppard sang Pour Some Sugar On Me, I was ecstatic!  I made the mistake then, of leaning back and kissing you, to thank you for taking me to the concert.  Big mistake.

Things got awkward the rest of last summer.  I texted you to tell you that we couldn’t do this.  That I wasn’t ready for this and you told me that you couldn’t believe I was “breaking up” with you, over text message.  First of all, we were not breaking up, because we weren’t a couple.  Second of all, we always talked about everything over text, it wasn’t like it was an oddity for me to text you.

A couple months after that, you grabbed my feet at karaoke and started rubbing them. I enjoy a nice foot rub as much as the next girl, but at karaoke?  In front of all our friends?  Are you a lunatic?  Who does that?  I was so caught off guard, I couldn’t even think clearly on how to handle the situation.

We were able to get through it and stay friends.  Chatting over text a couple times a week.  Hanging out at karaoke and laughing, as friends do.  It was comfortable.

I know that it hurts your feelings that every time you have asked me to do something, I have made an excuse on why I couldn’t go.  I don’t want to go to dinner with you.  I don’t want to go to the movies or a concert or anything.  I have always had a feeling that you couldn’t keep the line drawn between friendship and romance.  So it was easier for me to avoid the situation.  It is easy to be friends with you, in a public setting, around mutual friends and when I have my own car.  Not a date.  Not a quiet movie or a romantic restaurant.

The thought of it, literally makes me sick.

Fast forward to the middle of June, 2015.  We were at a mutual friend’s house for a barbecue and karaoke.  A few drinks.  Ok, a lot of drinks.  A LOT.

I was mad at the 29 year old.  I was mad about turning 40 in a few weeks.  I had a lot to drink and made the mistake of kissing you again.  More than once, I know.  In the middle of the making out session, I tried to tell you that this wasn’t going to happen again.  I told you that night that you were one of my best friends and that the kissing shouldn’t be happening.

I ended up driving home that night, when I shouldn’t have, because I didn’t want to stay the night, knowing you would be staying there.

I let it bother me for over a week.  I ignored a lot of your texts and when I responded, they were short and maybe bordering on bitchy.  I finally decided it was best to address the situation, before our friendship was forever ruined by something I said or did.

I sent you a text.  Telling you I had been feeling weird about things.  That I didn’t like it.  I told you that I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship, but reiterated again, how it shouldn’t have happened.  Then I apologized.

You didn’t respond the way you should have.  You didn’t respond the way I anticipated you responding.  You told me that we had chemistry and a spark.  That there was definitely something between us and I was choosing not to see it.  Then you told me that you wouldn’t give up.  That you didn’t want to give up.

I quit responding.

Do not ever tell me how I’m feeling or not feeling.  Do not tell a girl who is already pulling away, that you aren’t going to give up.  It makes you sound like a stalker and makes me feel creepy about the whole situation.  Now, I’m struggling even wanting to be your friend.

You texted me on my birthday.  I didn’t respond.

When I showed up to karaoke on my birthday, with my girls and my mom, you actually invited them to sit with you, while I was saying hi to the others there.

Really?  My mom?  And my girls?  What in the fuck are you thinking?

And thank you for the Chris Webber jersey you bought me for my birthday.  I didn’t want to accept it.  I didn’t want you to buy me a gift.  I would however like to know how you knew I’d be at karaoke that night?  Did you somehow know, or did you have a present in your car, just in case?

You texted me today, to wish me a Happy 4th of July.  I didn’t respond.

You asked me if I liked the jersey.  I didn’t respond.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful.

I love the jersey.  I just don’t trust the sentiment behind it.

I wanted to be your friend.  I just don’t trust that you know where the line is.

I KNOW that this is my fault.  I KNOW that I kissed you and because of the way you feel about me, you find it difficult to think that it was just a kiss.  That hormones, alcohol, anger and frustration can all be a reason for the kiss.

But that is all it was.

There is no chemistry.

There is no spark.

There is no passion.

I am not interested in anything more than a friendship.  I am not attracted to you. When I kiss you, it is just like kissing the stranger in the bar.  Nothing there.  It happens.  Alcohol fueled.

To be honest, because of your behavior this week, I’m not sure I even want to be friends.

And to be even more honest, I’m not sure why you want to be friends with me.

I apologize for sending you mixed signals.  I apologize for doing anything to make you think this was anything more than a friendship.

But don’t ever tell me how I’m feeling.




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