Hey! Haven’t talked to you in a while, huh? No, I didn’t know you moved to ____! I definitely did not see that on your facebook profile while stalking you yesterday. Ha! Yeaaaah, that would be awkward.
No, I don’t want to hook up again (notice: former hookups), and I definitely don’t wanna piss off your crazy girlfriend. Haha, that’s funny, you think I’m crazy too? That’s what the last couple of guys said too! Well, I’ve got some things to add to the list, so hold on tight sweety-tart-buckaroo-pumpkin (I know you always loved it when I called you that, from the first night I made out with you at Crossett Christmas)…all the things you (never) wanted to know about me when we were in bed.
1. I know how you smell. This might be a creepy way to start off–but I’m just gonna lay it out for you. I’ve got like a mini-archive in my brain filled with each hook-up’s smell. No matter how brief the encounter–how you smell is just really important to me. It can either totally turn me on, or turn me off. And don’t think the right cologne/deodorant is gonna help you here–I mean how YOU smell. Maybe I’m some deranged-wolf-lady, but I definitely checked out how you smelled before I hooked up with you. Chances are, if we met in the socials, I didn’t have to work that hard to get through the layers of man-muscle-fresh-sport-spice-stuff you put under your armpits, but if we met in class or in a bar, I probably found a subtle hint of you from your hair or something. While this may be unbelievably creepy…I just like to know beforehand how you would smell if we hooked up. When I was sexually assaulted the smell lingered with me for weeks–and I would still smell him around my house occasionally–I hate his smell–and I try to avoid it. So congrats–if this letter is addressed to you, you don’t smell like rapist! (or at least not like my rapist…)
2. If you kissed me on the neck I did not like it. I’m sorry–are you a vampire? And even if you are–please engage ME, not the blood highway running between my torso and my brain. I know that most people like this whole kissing the neck thing, and that once again I‘m the crazy one, but I just feel like an extra-thick-cow-tail-candy-rope that you’re gnawing away at–there is no gooey center, so stop trying to get in there with your incessant sucking. Not to mention, I don’t really know what to do with my hands in instances like this–maybe I’ll like rub them up and down your back or something…but I mostly try to make “sexy” noises as if I’m enjoying it. But then I get this really weird out of body experience — like I’m hearing myself be turned on, but I’m not turned on at ALL — and I feel like maybe that’s someone else’s voice who’s being turned on. But then I’m all, “who ever this girl is that is LOVIN’ the moment maybe should just take my place…cause I’m really not into this.”
3. If I gave you a blow job, this was not a compliment. For a while I just really didn’t know how to extricate myself from a hook-up. I felt super uncomfortable saying “heyyy, how about a rain check–I’m just gonna go” (Which all people should feel totally comfortable saying! I learned how to say this and it made my life SO much better!!) But anyway, back to the blow jobs. Before I knew how to extricate myself with my words, I knew I could get a guy off with a blow job, he wouldn’t touch me when my mouth was on his dick, I would be in control, and when I was done, we could be done and I could leave. This was an incredibly manipulative and self-destructive thing to do. I’m really sorry. We could have had legitimate chemistry–and I totally fucked it up with this move–BUT we live, we learn, now I just peace out when I don’t want anymore (sans-blow-job).
4. Not only did I check out your smell, I definitely checked out your face. Yes, everyone checks out each other’s faces…but I was looking for something particular. I wanted to make sure your lips were the right size…if they’re too soft looking–they could be really super triggering (if you’re not familiar with trauma language, this means remind me of my sexual assault). I’ve tried kissing a guy who had lips like this anyway, even though I knew it was a bad idea–let’s just say it didn’t work out so well. I liked him, so I tried to focus on everything else while kissing him…but I just felt like I was kissing a hulking pile of snot with worms crawling through it. Not my idea of a good time. So, A*****, if you’re reading this you french fool, I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I lied about the reason because I didn’t want to explain it to you. :(
5. I probably acknowledged you the next day, but in a really platonic way. “Hi, comrade. That’s a nice notebook that I saw you load into your very sturdy backpack. I would mega-enjoy a longer conversation with you because I like you, but I think I’ll make up a very thin lie about a hampster I definitely don’t have in my dorm room so I can immediately shit my pants in fear and analyze the four words you said to me as a greeting. Good day, sir.” Yeah, I guess talking with me has always been painful. and awkward. Almost as awkward as being lactose-intolerant at an ice cream convention, giving in and having four banana splits in extra-farts-later-flavor and then getting stuck in an elevator exactly when the giant lactose-lump starts to travel through your digestive track. almost as awkward…
SO! leaving you on that image, (smell-o-vision) I leave you to your girlfriend who now seems much less crazy!! (Isn’t it amazing how I have that effect on people??)
Until the next time I contact you inappropriately,
P.S. I even posted on the wrong day to throw you off….or did I?