The Letter We All Wish We Could Send: Dear Ex-Hookup

Recently, I had a booze fueled, emotionally charged conversation with a great friend who ended a long term relationship. It got me thinking about how as much as it sucks, at least at the end of something that was defined, there’s at least a semblance of closure. Both parties realize and have a conversation about the fact that they’re no longer together and can start picking up the pieces and move on. But what about those of us who have undefined, unresolved relationships that just spontaneously… end? There are still so many questions and late nights left empty, wondering where it all ended, how and why. So here’s a letter for all of us, to all of them. The letter that we all wish we could send.

Dear You,

It’s 3 am and I just woke up thinking about you. It’s been a couple of months and I’m not sure why you’d be on my mind, but you’re still there, like an itch I can’t ignore. It’s mostly times like these, the dead of night, when the thoughts come creeping in, wondering where you are and what you’re doing. I guess it could be partially my fault. I never wanted to let on how much I cared, fearing that you wouldn’t feel the same. I’ve been broken before (haven’t we all?), and the possibility of opening up and being honest becomes the most terrifying thing in the world. Now that you’re gone, I wonder if I could have changed any of this by being more up front. Now that you’re gone, I know exactly how much I care about you and it kills me. I’ll never let you know. I’m a moth to the flame, and any sign of weakness will draw me right back. I put on the brave face and the bright smile, pretending you meant just as much of nothing as I meant to you, when at some point what we were became so much more in my mind. I know your habits, the way you smile when you’re about to throw a sarcastic comment my way, the look in your eyes when I open the door. See, somewhere along the line I picked up on the little things. Yet, I’ll watch you across the bar, having a drink and never say a word. The first person to break is always the one who cares more, and I’ll be damned if I look like that idiot again. So I’ll just watch you with her, knowing she doesn’t matter just as much as I didn’t. Knowing someday you’ll break her heart worse than you did mine. At least I can handle it – I’ve been around the block a time or two and emotional investments aren’t my strong point. I guess my biggest fear is that you actually do care, and what that says about me. So fear will hold me back, force me to act like everything is fine, and you’ll move on none the wiser. Just know it’s those of us with the hardest of hearts that have hurt the most, and those who care the least actually care the most.