An Open Letter

Dear Roommate,

Oh wait, let me correct that.

Dear EX-Roommate,

For months, I sat back and dealt with the fact that we were dating and sleeping with the same man.  For months, I tried to hide my jealousy at the fact that even though you only had one firm “date” night a week, that you lived with him.  You saw him, laughed with him, ate dinner with him and hung out with him, five nights a week.  But I tried my best to understand him and the situation.

On the nights that you had your official “date” night, I gave him his space.  I didn’t text him, call him or snap chat him.  Even though I didn’t like it, I respected HIM enough to give him his time.

You could never do the same.  Every time he was with me, no matter what we were doing, you would text him.  You would send him snap chats.  You would even send him messages on Facebook.  Even though he wouldn’t respond, you would keep it up, every time we were together.  Every. Fucking. Time.  I tried not to let it bother me.  I tried to understand.

I knew the situation going in to this relationship with him.  He was honest with me about where he was in his life and what he was doing.  He didn’t want a serious relationship and I understood that.  He told you the same thing.

But there was something there between him and I.  Something different.  I knew it.  He knew it.  And apparently, you knew it.

You tagged him on Facebook, every chance you got.  I did not.

You posted pictures of the two of you together.  I did not.

I saw them and cringed.  I saw them and cried.  I saw them and started fights with him.

I finally got to a point where I was comfortable enough to post a picture of him and I together on my Facebook.  I didn’t even tag him in it.  Yet, within minutes, you texted him to tell him that it hurt you to see the pic of us together and made you really sad what MY friends were commenting under it.  You told him to tell me to block you on Facebook.  That you couldn’t block me, because you always had the opportunity to unblock me.

Here’s the thing, ex-roommate, if you don’t like what you are seeing on my Facebook page, quit fucking looking at it.  Quit stalking me.  I already had to block you on Instagram because you were stalking me.  I drew the line at Facebook.

Shortly after that, you did block me on Facebook.  YAY!!  I don’t have to see your shit anymore!!  It was kind of a small victory to me.

Remember the night you and E got in that huge fight?  Oh, you remember.  The night that you got pissed off and walked out, because he told you he was falling in love with me?  Yes.  That night.  He messaged me and asked me to come and pick him up because he was drunk and didn’t want to be home if you came back.  I went to pick him up.  He told me all about the fight and said that he had gotten pissed and broke his phone.  I talked him through it, helped him pack a bag and took him home with me.

On the way home, I told him he needed to message you on Facebook, to let you know that he was safe.  His exact words to me? “Fuck that bitch.  She doesn’t need to know where I’m at.”

That night was the night you decided to unblock me from Facebook.  Do you remember that?  You sent me a message, telling me that you had gotten home and he wasn’t there.  That you were SO worried about him.  You told me that he was drunk and didn’t have a phone.

I responded with a simple message.  “He’s safe.”

You proceeded to tell me some things about you and E and your fight, that I didn’t want to hear.  I remained calm.  I remained factual and tried to do the right thing by him.  I even sent you my cell phone number, so you could call him if you wanted to.  You responded with a message saying that you would never call my cell phone number and sent me yours, but told me to tell him to only call if he REALLY wanted to talk to you.

You know what bitch?  You got your way.  BLOCKED.

The next few months were a lot of the same.

He told you he didn’t want a physical relationship with you anymore.  That you were just friends and roommates.

You cried.

You cried every time he left the house to come be with me.

You cried every time you had a beer with him and he brought me up.

Yet, I still respected the times you guys were together and didn’t message him.

Eventually, he made the decision to be exclusive with me.  Even though he hadn’t been with others in months, it was official.  He asked you to move out and told you that he was moving in with me and that I would be his future.

Here is where things get weird.  Here is where you freaked the fuck out and let your multiple personalities show.

In the two months since this decision was made, you have been a complete bitch to him, cried to him, been sarcastic to him and tried to sleep with him.  How’s that for respect?

I guess there are three things about your behavior that have surprised me the most, since he told you he was moving in with me.

First, you still have a total lack of respect for my relationship with him, for his decision to commit to me.  You send him pictures of you laying in bed, with just the tops of your boobs showing.  You call him babe and sign the picture with xoxo.  I don’t give one fuck how you feel about me, but how disrespectful is that to your “best friend”?

Second, you are so wishy-washy with the things you say to him.  You have told him to tell me to unblock you from Facebook.  That it’s important for you to see the things I tag him in and that you want to know he is happy.  You told him that you want to apologize to me and make things right.  That you want to say you are sorry for being a jealous bitch for all those months.  Here’s the thing, I am a grown ass woman and I will make my own decisions about unblocking you or listening to what you have to say to me.

Lastly, you tell him that you want all of us (me, him, you and your new meal ticket) to hang out.  To have dinner together or possibly go to a concert together.  Yes.  That sounds like something I would want to do.  Right behind poking my own eyes out with a dull pencil and pulling my hair out, one strand at a time and choking myself with it.

I know that losing someone you love isn’t easy.  It hurts like a bitch.  I wouldn’t wish that kind of heartache on anyone.  I do have empathy for you and how you must be feeling.  However, with that said, I do not believe you are handling it the right way.  You can choose to move in two different directions.  You can walk away completely and cut him out of your world.  Let your heart heal.  Mourn the loss of him and the loss of what you had.  OR you can be his friend.  Be happy for him that he has found me and that I make him smile.  You say you want what is best for him, but does that only count if you are the one he chooses?

Stop trying to control what I do in my life.

Stop trying to turn his other friends against with your broken heart.

Stop trying to make him feel bad for falling in love with someone other than you.

Stop trying to win him back by sending him suggestive photos and calling him pet names.

He has asked you to stop, respect him.

He has told you that he loves me, respect us.

And last, but certainly not least, know in your heart that I’m the one he chose.  He wants to spend his life with me and I will do everything in my power to keep that smile on his handsome face.  He loves me.  He is in love with me.  I am his world.  Bitching, crying, naked pictures and begging are not going to change the way his heart feels.

Move on,

Me.

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3 thoughts on “An Open Letter

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