Two and a half years later, and you’re still my dirty little secret.  I know that neither of us moved on.  You asked someone for my number recently, but you never called.  I guess you know I hate you.  I guess you don’t know that I’d take you back in a second.

The chemistry was so right between us.  The chemistry was right, but we were so wrong.  The lies you told me hurt so much, so much that I let you think I believed them.  I told myself that you lied to impress me, because you didn’t think you were good enough for me, because you loved me.  Each one was like a gift, to show how much you cared.  After we were over, you told everyone that you fucked me.  I told myself that it was because I was who you wanted to fuck the most.  And secretly, I wish you had fucked me. And secretly, I’d fuck you tomorrow if I had the chance.

I loved when you gave me alcohol, because I knew that you wanted to take advantage of me.  I let you think I was drunk because it gave me an excuse to let you abuse me.  Secretly, I was always waiting to see if you’d rape me.  I wouldn’t have stopped you if you had tried.

I hated your cigarettes, but I smoked with you everyday because watching you smoke turned me on.  I hated the taste of them, but I was sure that you must have liked it, and I wanted you to kiss me.  I like the taste of cigarettes now.

I used to try to talk to you.  I never really wanted to.  I just knew that you hated talking to me and that you’d try to shut me up by making out.  It always worked.  

I thought your fingernails were gross, guys shouldn’t have long fingernails.  But I loved what you did with them.  I don’t think you knew how much they hurt when you fingered me.  You knew how much I liked it though.

You never bit me hard enough and rarely in the right places.  I pretended I loved it, hoping to encourage you to do it harder, hoping that the times you hit the right spots you’d realize it.  You never did.  I couldn’t tell you where to do it because then we’d end up having sex.  You had to initiate that.  You didn’t.

I told you that I wasn’t ready for sex.  I still hate you for respecting that.  The one time that you did pressure me, you wouldn’t have had to.  You were only inches away, and we were both naked.   If you’d have just done it I wouldn’t have complained.  Instead, you asked.  Of course, I said no.  You asked again and I didn’t answer.  That was your sign, if you’d asked again I would have fucked you.  That was your opportunity and you didn’t take it.  How is it that the only time you respected me was the one time when I didn’t want you to.  

Secretly, I hope you happen to come across this and read it.  You’d know it was about you.  You have my number.  You’re still my dirty little secret.