A satirical reply to Femme Koitalel’s Unwritten Letter To My Ex).
Kate,
Hey love. I read your letter. Kind of beats sense that you say it’s unwritten. I saw words, and they weren’t exactly good ones. But what’s it they say about love? Hurts sometimes, I think. And I’m hurt, seriously. There’s just no other appropriate response to your scathing letter. But at least I get this chance to defend myself.
Yes, I remember that particular day. And yes, I may have implied that I needed something more. Do you recall what happened prior to that though? I had asked if you could try a little bit of exercise. You were out of shape, darling (I’m woke these days, by the way) and, honestly, your diet is shit. You say my fart stinks like dead mice? Well, you should see how unsettling the view of you eating those cancer-giving crap you call food. Actually that’s like the main reason why we couldn’t go out on dates as often as before.
Honey, your friends aren’t exactly the good bunch. Just look at Mercy, a drunk who wakes up in men’s bed every morning after a night of binge drinking. Jane? What a cruel heart! Is a man wrong to be worried that their mama is slowly turning into… ? So yeah, me calling you dumb was just an expression of my fears.
You never liked my music? Well, that’s just an issue of preference. I didn’t like your music, either. But, unlike you, I was honest about it. Because I know honesty is something that keeps a relationship solid. And my suits are classy! I can’t believe you hated them when you would often compare them to those of that hero lawyer in Suits. Beards? Come on! You know I would have killed to have them.
Ah yes. Church was my sanctuary. When you were trouble she offered me solace. She even offered me a better lover. The girl you kept throwing tantrums about is a church girl, by the way. We’re even expecting a baby. And to think you once called her a hoe… She forgave you, anyway. And come on! Girls “looked” at me because I’m super hot. At the church there is no where I’m reminded being sexy is sinful. I’m sure that’s something you know but conveniently make it seem otherwise. I never broke hearts, I fixed hearts. I even fixed yours — you were a wreck when we first met. Someone like Sharon was going through a traumatic experience and she reached out. My moral compass functions just well, and so I offered a shoulder. And an occasional dick ride (trust me, she really needed that, like you did back then). She turned out better. We’re still good friends.
Nope. No. I’m not going to talk about Nice again. Except for one thing — she was actually nice. Were you ever nice?
Oh yes, hun. It’s called grooming. I’m trying out a new look suggested by my other half, Alicia. Turns out she doesn't like the suits too. But, unlike you, she was open about it and even suggested a new look for me. And frankly, I’m loving it. Hoodies, denim jeans, tees with Che Guevara imprints, sneakers… And yes, those were new shoes. Nike Air Max Ultra 90. Alicia got me those as my birthday present. Come to think of it, did I ever get any gift from you? Oh. The afro adds that rebellious, but cool edge to my personality.
We could meet, although that would have to pass through Alicia for consent first (that’s just how much I love her). You say closure? Does that mean latex and steamy sweat and goodbyes? That’s something I’d definitely sign up for!
I see you still wear t-shirts. And that nobody can take that from you. But I’m glad that a while back I would make you take them off, often under closed doors, and that one time at the park. Hm, I must admit — those “nocturnal escapades” to the park were quite something. I loved how you would hold me tight when you heard something crawl in the bushes.
That shit? Why call it shit? It was my first and I’d rather have it as something decent. It wasn’t a lie. You gave me the gift of your body to which I’m forever thankful, but you also gave me the curse of your being. You made my life a mess, and for sometime I thought maybe it was worth it. Like, turbulent times, and she’s my first. We can surely hold on. But I couldn’t. I snapped. Do you blame me for that?
Oh. Jo’burg you say? I’m actually happy for you. But I wish that flight could change your attitude. Because… no way you’ll have things any better there. Nope. I’m also sure you won’t meet a fine, smart, un-me guy on the flight. Guy that will sit next to you will probably have a smelly breath. And he’ll keep throwing his misogynist self to you. And to think how much you hate sexists…
Okay, okay. I think you shouldn’t be quick with that. I may have been a bad guy, but at least I get to tell myself that it was reactionary — you led me to that. But that’s still problematic, I admit, especially to my now-woke self. You? As much as you paint yourself as the victim you know you aren’t exactly that. You are just as bad. Maybe even worse. But you were my first, and that love somehow still sticks around.
Yes, fuck me, Kate. We seem to both need that.
Mike.
PS-Please don’t let Alicia see this. I still want to see another day.
[Find this article also at https://medium.com/@iAduwa
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