09.19.2004
My 'Dear Sean' Letter
Sean,
I don't particularly want to be friends with someone like you. I'll be more specific, in case you have no clue what I'm talking about. I don't like that you came over unexpectedly the other day after some what I thought was harmless flirting, I gave you a blowjob, and now I haven't heard from you since unless you count that one text-message Friday night about how busy you were arranging the football pool. Fuck you.
I don't like that I only see you when you want me to see you, that we're only friends when it's convenient for you. Like inviting me to watch wrestling with you, so you have someone to sit with and you don't have to be alone.
I don't like that I have to make my own assumptions on what you're thinking all the time because you won't talk about anything relating to feelings, or me. I have to figure out what your possible motives are, and somehow accept all of the possibilities because there's no way for me to know what's really going on.
So back to the blow job situation. Were you just horny, and figured since I was flirting with you, that you could come over, get some real quick, and not be part of my life again? Maybe I've given you the impression that that's okay with me, since I did it. But I'm telling you right now, it's not okay with me. The only reason your dick gets anywhere near my mouth is because I think you're special, that you're someone. Not because I'm horny, or desperate. I am both of those things, but I won't just hookup with some stranger, either, so I know the reason I let myself fool around with you is more than just those things. I like you, I always have. I don't know if that means anything to you, but I like to think it does. I like to think that you like being special to me. But for some reason, you don't want to be special all the time, only sporadically. So why is that? You need a pick-me-up sometimes? Don't we all, but don't fucking use your only friend, you asshole.
I am your only friend, too. Your only real friend. Your other "friends" know nothing about you, could give a shit less about you. You hang out, play games, gamble, whatever, but would they sacrifice part of themselves for you? Hell no. And that's what real friends do, they do things they don't want to do because the other person needs it. But you have no concept of that, all you see is what you want, what you need.
What I want is someone who is willing to be a friend, willing to go out of his/her way for me if I need something. You don't do that, never have. If it's inconvenient, you say no, consistently. There's a time to be selfish, it's just not all the time. And yet you like that I sacrifice for you. You know I do it, stay up later than I should, go out when I shouldn't, do trivial little favors for you, and some bigger ones. You've never even reciprocated in the sex department! For god's sake, how can you live with that? Most people would at least return the favor, I think.
But not you. You're different. All I can assume is that you're so fucking scared to make a change, a real change, in your life, that you run from everything I represent. Because I say it's okay to be who you are, but if you have a problem, you should work on fixing it. I know it's hard, and hardly ever fun, but I do it to be better, to get somewhere that I'm happy about, to know that I tried my best at something. You obviously don't want that, to improve yourself. And yet you won't just let me go. You keep coming around from time to time, asking me to judge you, to tell you what's wrong with you. I don't like these games. Because you never let me be around for long. You're always here, then gone. And I can't take it anymore. Once I told you there was almost nothing you could do to push me away, but you've done it. You've done the one thing I can't handle - nothing. You do nothing to change and grow. You remain stuck in who you are, in your comfort zone, with no one around you to call you out on your shit. And you know what that means? No one to high-five when you do something truly good, either. I'm not waiting around anymore for you to realize that I really care about you and that just maybe, that might be a good thing to have. Fuck you. Grow the fuck up.
Courtney
P.s. I am making myself this oath right now, that I will not respond to your text messages any longer. If you want to talk to me, you can call like any responsible human being, instead of hiding behind the text messages.
alannablue at 6:49 p.m.