Mister’s Letter

Dear Butch,

Young, stupid, and in love.

Words fitting for our relationship.  You were my first everything.  My first relationship.  My first love.  My first sexual partner.

You, were and are still are, a man.  100% biological male.  I am not quite sure how I feel about including you here in my land of all things gay, but I can’t think of my ex’s without thinking of you.  So, here you are.  In my big dyke world of butch and femme.  Consider this your one-time-use-only guest pass.

No one needs to know about what happened.  What occurred between you and I will remain unspoken, left in the shadows of the years gone by.  We have grown older and wiser.  You found the peace in your soul that you desperately sought and I found the courage I always knew that laid deep within me.  You have a beautiful family that you are so incredibly proud of and I couldn’t  be happier to not be your wife or the mother of your children.  And not just for the obvious reasons of my lesbianism and your love for another woman.

Despite how much I tell the world I don’t loathe you and what you did to my mind and body, there is a tiny piece of my heart that detests you.  A small piece that is so black and cold with hate for who you were when you were with me that the rage spills over in my sleep and in my dreams.  I spend my days forgetting the past, but at night my muscles tense and my throat becomes dry with screams.

I can excuses your actions, but I will never forgive you for what you left behind.




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