Dedication to My Ex
Or, yet another unsent letter
Do y’all remember that song, “Dedication to My Ex,” by Lloyd? It’s…honestly pretty hilarious, but it definitely doesn’t hold up to 2020 standards. (Give it a quick listen — you’ll see what I mean). Anywho, though this piece shares a title with that ridiculous song, the tone of it is drastically different. Before I met Mike, my current boyfriend, I had one other serious relationship — a serious high school relationship. We were friends for years before we inevitably dated in 12th grade. Our relationship went the way of most senior year relationships, although I had the unique pleasure of being broken up with before our graduation. Days before. Good times.
Worry not, though — the following “letter to my ex” (which is for the eyes of ATF subscribers, and not actually for my ex) is not at all bitter. For a long time, I’ve wanted to make amends with this guy, but I’ve just never been sure whether or not doing so is appropriate. Add this to the list of reasons I’m grateful for ATF: I finally get to put these thoughts into writing!
Dear Ex-Boyfriend,
Actually, I don’t know if I even like to think of you as my ex-boyfriend. That’s how I refer to you any time you happen to come up in conversation, but in my mind, you’re my ex-best friend.
I’ll go weeks, maybe even months, without you crossing my mind at all, but then I’ll have these phases where I can’t stop thinking about you. Can you tell that I’m in one of those phases right now? I want so badly for you to know that I don’t hate you, and I don’t really hold anything against you. I mean, you know me — there’s definitely a small part of me that will never let that anger toward you go. But for the most part, I’ve moved on from it.
God, you would hope I’d have moved on, right? It’s been seven years, somehow. I think that’s what gets me: you’re 25 years old now!! Obviously, I am, too, but…it’s different. Like, with my friends who I’ve kept up with all this time, it seems natural to me that they’re adults now. But you — man, it’s just weird to think of you as anything other than 18. You’re married now! You’re balding, and you kind of have a dad bod. Not trying to throw shade…just calling it like it is. I’m sure there’s things about me you’ve noticed have changed via photos on Facebook and Instagram as well.
But really, I just can’t ignore the impact you’ve had on my life. You were a significant part of my adolescent development, and the aftermath of our relationship determined many of the choices I made in college. Fun fact: it took me about two and a half years to have any desire to date after you broke up with me. During that time, I deflected my romantic/sexual energy toward ridiculous fantasy crushes: my theology professor freshman year (barf), star St. John’s basketball player D’Angelo Harrison, and of course, Zachary Levi. Finally, one night in February 2016, I “got out of my shell” and kissed some guy at one of the bars near campus. I tried to text my two best friends about it, but managed instead to text MY MOM AND MY SISTER. Yikes. I also found out the next day that that guy had a girlfriend. Double yikes. But, fast forward eight months or so, and after a few more bar-related incidents, I finally met Mike, my current boyfriend. Looking back, I’m so happy I had those years of college all to myself and to my friends. I got to be silly, immature, and free for some of the best moments of my life. Once I met Mike, I was content, and I was ready to act more like an adult.
I’m sorry for the way I acted most of senior year of high school. I was unusually insecure and pretty unfair in how I treated you a lot of the time. Although, I mean…was I totally wrong? The girl I thought wanted to take you away from me is now your wife, soooo… my intuition wasn’t lying. But, my behavior was still uncool. BUT (again), the way so many of our shared friends turned against me that year was also very uncool. (That’s right, people. I knew your game the whole time! But I digress…)
I really don’t want to get caught up in the unpleasant memories when there are also so many happy ones. From the early days of our friendship in middle school, to all the high school shenanigans, to our time as a couple, there were many moments that I will always treasure.
It’s weird trying to write this as if I’m talking to you but to also do so in an eloquent and mature fashion. Like, that last paragraph…I would’ve never said something like that to you out loud, and probably not over text either. That’s what I hate so much — that we have no relationship at all. Now, that isn’t me saying I think we should have one, or that I want us to have one; sadly, I think the damage is done. Sometimes I imagine what the conversation would go like if we happened to bump into each other randomly (sometimes I even imagine it against my will, in my dreams), but I’m just not sure how it could really go well. Without knowing what you think of me, or how you feel about everything, I just doubt that you would be receptive to hearing what I have to say. That’s why I like the idea of a letter (too bad I’m not actually sending this to you, though).
You will always hold a special place in my heart, even if the place you hold in my mind is somewhat conflicted. I will always cherish the compassion you showed me after everything that happened with you-know-who (C.P.). Actually, that’s when I knew I saw you as more than a friend — when I sought attention/love/anything from a thoughtless boy and instead received the kindness I needed from you.
Five years ago, my sister’s closest childhood friend passed away. I’m not totally sure about this, but I don’t think she had talked to her in quite some time, which only made the loss that much harder to bear. When that happened, I took a minute to think if I had anyone like that — anyone who, if they died, I would regret not speaking to, or apologizing to. Almost immediately, in spite of myself, you came to mind. But I didn’t reach out. Ever since then, I’ve gone through phases of wanting to reach out to you, but I never do. Even this letter is more of a therapeutic writing exercise than anything. I don’t know for sure what holds me back. I think I worry about messing up your life in some way. You seem happy — why should I intrude on that? Or honestly, I probably fear rejection. What if you told me there will always be hard feelings? Or worse, what if you completely ignored me? I think I like this method best: putting my thoughts out there where you could, theoretically, find them…but you still probably won’t. Yeah, I’m content with that.
Truly, I don’t want anything from you. I don’t want to be your friend, and I don’t even really want to talk to you. But the thought of you thinking I carry any ill will toward you pains me. I don’t know if I’ve forgiven you 100% for what you did, but I know that I’ll always love you, in some capacity.
— Your Former Favorite Person, Aimée
Originally published on June 25, 2020
