This One's for You, Garrett.

 
You tore me apart piece by piece when you broke up with me. Now, it’s my turn.

 

My ex was 5’8”, wore a size 13 shoe and his dick was maybe 5 inches. Now you know what they say about big feet. Supposed to be big socks. Big, well, you know. Everything. Nnhm, not this guy. Not in this lifetime. I always wondered how he was so good at math when none of his own dimensions made sense, but I realized he got the equation of us wrong when he decided to subtract me because I was the best damn thing that could have happened to him. He tried dividing parts of who I am to get less of what he didn’t like and when the division only created more multiplication problems, he tried subtracting those parts of me.  A girl like me doesn’t get to be part of a math problem so maybe he wasn’t that great at math after all. He walks like a fucking duck, feet always at his sides. I hope he never gets pulled over while intoxicated because I promise you that straight line won’t happen. When we met, he was a virgin. Unfortunately for me that meant I had to be his first. I tried teaching him how to do shit, but he’s not the best learner. All that ever came out of his mouth was, “Is it in yet?”, and “Where’s the hole?”. Twenty-three years old without a fucking clue. His poor little maybe 5-inch dick couldn’t even stay up. We did have a lot of “sex”, for the lack of a better word. It’s safe to say that every single “orgasm” he gave me was fake. And because he didn’t have a clue, he didn’t know the difference. For those ladies who try to climb to the tip of that mountain with him, I’m sorry. So, so sorry from the bottom of my unpleased heart. He smokes a lot of weed, drinks too much bourbon and listens to his friends like they’re his goddamn parents. He’s perfectly capable of making his own decisions but I guess his brain capacity is running low and he can’t handle such responsibility. If you asked me, I’d say he’s a coward. He fears commitment like a little kid fears monsters under the bed. He was scared to let someone actually worth something make his life better. What other type of person would make the reason for breaking up with someone, “because you love too much”? Only a coward. He called it quits when things got tough. Too much of a child to pick up the pieces and put things back together again. I guess it’s true that we accept the love we think we deserve. He didn’t want mine because he didn’t fucking deserve it and I deserved so much better. He liked holding hands. A lot. Like, way too much. The gesture is sweet but not when your hands are sticky, sweaty, or god forbid a combination of both. That shit makes me feel like I need to dip my hands in bleach. He was an entitled, spoiled, rich white boy. The fact I was his girlfriend made him feel as if I owed it to him to be the type of woman he wanted, the type of woman he needed. It was my mistake for actually trying to be. Shopping with him was the absolute worst. He was always on the hunt for coupons and discounts. Which honestly isn’t a bad thing but god, when it’s a quarter past midnight and all you want to do is go home and stuff your face with the Kroger chicken you picked out, it can get pretty frustrating pretty quickly. He had money to spend yet he was still ridiculously frugal. In the sense he would put something back if he found something else for ten cents less. Try living a little, buddy. Selfish is what he was the most. I guess he felt so damn lonely he had to use me to fill his void. He didn’t love me, no matter how many times the words fell from his twisted lips. People throw the word “love” around like dirty socks. He was one of those people who didn’t know what the word meant before he decided to speak it. I was the first to feel it but he was the first to say it. Not all of us think before we speak. While I was full of love, he was full of shit. I was nothing but convenient to him. I did not wish him the best, but I did not wish him anything. I simply should have said I hope he finds what he deserves. Whether that be something good or bad, that’s between him and Karma. Some will say that he didn’t do anything to me, that breaking up is normal. The latter, I agree with. But you simply do not do to one what he did to me. Lie about your feelings, use that person’s existence to make yours feel more worth living, blame everything that went wrong completely on them and take none of the responsibility. You don’t do that. He knew he wanted to leave me before he actually did. Lead me on, still making what I thought was love to me each time we saw each other. There were no warning signs, no flashing lights, no red flags. Silent killers are the worst. He bought me a stethoscope because I told him I wanted to listen to his heartbeat. Little did I know the only heart I would listen to would be my own heart breaking.  I’m not sour towards him. But he was a predator in this jungle of life. The kind that preys on those of us who bring too much to the table to for them to feast on. They see the buffet we’ve prepared. Our delicacies on the table, our feelings hiding behind no walls, our hearts on our sleeves and our bodies out in the open for only their eyes to see. They dive into that, blood thirsty. Not stopping until they’ve taken all that you can give. Do not ever let a “man” make you feel like your body is less sacred, less pure, less of the goddess that you are just because he has touched you at your depths because it is his hands that need to be cleansed.  

 

After all of these things, what I can’t stand the most about him is that my naive heart would take him back. Because right now, the fool in me can still find reasons to love him, among all the reasons why I shouldn’t. What a shame he couldn’t do the same. If there is one thing he was right about, it’s that time is never wasted no matter how it’s spent. That’s why I have no regrets. He was a lesson learned, one that I’ll always remember. I’m grateful for those short months we spent together, he showed me exactly the type of love I don’t want. It’s fucked up that you learn the most about love from those who never loved you. He was the closest I’ve gotten to heaven and hell. I was on cloud nine for the longest time, then in the blink of an eye I collapsed back on the ground.  

 

And Garrett, if you ever hear or read this one day, I hope when you are ready for fireworks instead of sparklers, your mind traces back to me. I tried being the biggest and brightest, but I guess I wasn’t good enough for your sky.