An Open Letter To The Guy Who Said He Wasn't Using Me For Sex

To the guy who said he wasn't using me for sex, burn in hell.

I didn't wait 10 months to get over my last breakup just to have sex with some guy who lied straight to my face for weeks.

People can like casual sex, and that's fine, but that wasn't what I was looking for because I'm Drake-y as a MF, and you knew that. You knew I was vulnerable.

You knew I was vulnerable.

I didn't even want to be dating at the time, but you messaged me on OkCupid and I thought you were pretty cute.

You even read my blog and told me how my unique experiences and outlook on love made me different. "Different" was always a word you used in me. I would joke around how I was "exactly like other girls," but you shut that down. You insisted that I was, in fact, different.

Everyone wants to feel special and because of you, l did. I'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff.

We exchanged numbers, you deleted your OkCupid profile before texting me, and you set up a date. You persistently told me how nervous you were to meet me and how much you wanted me to like you.

I swear to God, your mouth must taste like ass from all the shit that comes out of it.

I swear to God, your mouth must taste like ass from all the shit that comes out of it.

Then, we went on our first date. You held my hand because I told you it was my favorite thing to do. You knew I would sop it right up.

But you didn't kiss me. Afterwards, I walked to the train, wondering what I did wrong. Guys who liked me always ended the first date with a kiss. Was this excitement one-sided? Was I the only one who felt a spark?

Not even an hour later, you calmed my fears and texted me saying you had such a great time. You didn't want the date to end. Was it weird that you already wanted to see me again that night?

(I should have known it meant you just wanted to see me, at night... naked.)

We were on the phone for five hours. You told me how you regretted not kissing me that afternoon, and I wanted you to kiss me, too.

We just couldn't get enough of each other. We talked all day, every day. Me living in Brooklyn and you living in Jersey working night shifts made it hard to see each other.

Nevertheless, you told me you were going on a family trip for a week and you needed to see me before you left.

I immediately bought that $30 train ticket to Jersey. It ended with us hooking up in your car to make up for that kiss you never gave me on our first date.

You texted me five minutes later saying, "I really loved seeing you."

And with that, I thought maybe, just maybe, this could be my first real relationship. For once in my life, I thought I didn't have to worry about a text back, or have to guess whether you liked me or not.

Before you got back from your trip, I invited you over for dinner and a concert that I was given two tickets for. 'Til this day, it was the best day I ever had.

We ate at my favorite restaurant. We danced —  you were actually a really good dancer — and in the midst of the music, you whispered in my ear that you were having a really great time with me.

You spent the night and it felt right.

I broke our sweaty silence to tell you how I felt about you.

You said you felt the same way.

I know I shouldn't feel stupid for being honest about what I wanted and what I was looking for. I shouldn't feel stupid because you were the asshole who lied to me.

I know I shouldn't feel stupid for being honest about what I want and what I'm looking for.

But boy, did I. The next day after our ~magical~ night was my birthday.  I had blown everyone off when you said you wanted to plan something for me.

And then I didn't hear from you.

You let me go on for that whole day — MY special day — waiting for a text.

I finally texted you that night asking if I should expect to see you. You told me that you changed your mind because you didn't want me to have any bad memories if we didn't work out.

That sounds like a really good excuse and all, but looking back, I'm not even sure if you would have told me you weren't coming if I hadn't texted you first and asked if you were coming.

How could I NOT feel a little dumb when it was ME who cried in my best friend's bed until 4 am on my birthday?

With that, our communication dwindled down from every hour of every day to only talking every couple of days. I told you that I understood spending a birthday was a big commitment for a lot of people, and asked you if you just wanted to end things.

You said it was nothing to worry about, and you were just busy and tired from work. I knew what "being busy" meant. You were just too busy for me.

The guy who would stay up after 12+ hour work days to see me or talk to me on the phone was suddenly too busy?

You weren't interested in me, and you just didn't want to admit it. You got what you wanted, and you were done with me. I just wanted an explanation, but in my gut, I knew that was it.

We saw each other one more time, but only because I pretty much told you that I would dead you if you flaked on our plans again.

I wanted it to work so badly. I wanted to see if things would be different if I just saw you one more time. We slept together again, but I think I did it because pining for your attention.

I told you things didn't feel the same.

You said you were just tired and busy with work. You said I was just used to you being on vacation and us talking all the time.

But I know that wasn't it. Even on your days off, you'd barely text. You made no effort to see me. So, that's when I ended things.

You weren't different. You were just an asshole this whole time.

Thank God we're done.