An Open Letter To My Ex's

Lately I’ve been thinking about you. Don’t be alarmed. You won’t receive any surprise phone calls, emails, letters, cards, flowers, or visits. The desire to reestablish contact with you faded and disappeared long ago. Trust me on that. No, this exercise, or exorcism depending on how you look at it, is to examine my present by reflecting on my past.

“Size doesn’t matter,” was a phrase you used during one of our more gentle exchanges. This is such a kind philosophy that I’m extending it to our physical and romantic relationship. No matter how long or how short you felt our time together was it had an effect on me.

Emotions have a certain energy, which leaves imprints on the mind - mental mirages that reflect the most potent of sensory images. Snapshots triggered by random smells, snippets of songs, or the flickering images from illuminated screens. However potent they may be, memories have a funny way of playing tricks on the mind.

One lesson I learned from you was to be honest, so here is a hard truth about the majority of my memories about us: they are mainly sexual in nature. My recollection of all those long talks over a few glasses of wine is rather fuzzy. What we did to each other after the third or fourth glass is as vivid as if it happened yesterday. At times these are still frames caught in my minds eye, but they scream with the intensity of the experience.

Other memories that are burned into my cortex are far from pleasant. Every slammed door, every admission of infidelity, and almost every argument play louder and stronger than any of the more pleasing thoughts. Moving slideshows of pain, regret, and anger. They are as fresh as if they happened yesterday.

A casual conversation turns to tears after I say, “I don’t want to get married and I don’t think I ever will.” Coming over at nine in the morning so you can basically ask, “What is wrong with you?” Then promptly walking out the door when all I delivered for an answer was a blank stare. “If she’s coming to see you,” you proclaimed naked and glowing with sweat after our final bout, “then I don’t want to see you again.” At which point I gathered up my clothes and walked out of your door again. The tears, anger, and retribution every time I confessed to cheating on you. As I put my clothes on for the absolute final time: “I guess this is the hard part.”

I am sorry and regret every wrong I did to you. Each time I lied and cheated. Every time I hid my emotions behind a sarcastic remark or joke, afraid to tell you the real truth. The numerous times I pretended to care so I could get what I wanted, whether it was sex or just a short respite from the torrent of words that were forced on me. There were so many things I did wrong. The smart ones, the women who knew what I was like and what would happen if they stayed, left before they ended up getting to close.

Here is the silver lining in this eternally unsent letter: I wanted to thank you. Our time together gave me a different perspective on life. From you I gained valuable lessons about people, situations, and how to deal with them. After our relationship I moved one step closer to the respect, intimacy, and communication needed to sustain a life-long love affair. Not that I ever felt I really had a problem with this, but reflection is the heart of change. You were right; size doesn’t matter because even the smallest gestures will eventually multiple into momentous changes.