Dear Andy,

Firstly I’d like to apologise. Maybe if I had a bit more self esteem, was more confident in myself and had more respect for myself things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so needy, so lonely and had found it in myself to say ‘no’ more, rather than passively let you do to me what you did, everything would be different now. But it is what it is. I find it hard to separate my emotions out from physical intimacy, and I think you always knew that if you’re honest. You knew how incredibly vulnerable I was, yet you still went there. We should never have gone there. I totally see that now, but at the time I was blinded, just so sold out on being wanted for the first time in many years. I didn’t see the harm. And for those reasons, I’m sorry. 

And I doubt you have given my wellbeing a second thought, but I have been wondering how you are. If you are getting the support you need. And you probably don’t believe me when I say that I care – but I do. Despite everything, in my mind you are still my friend and I can’t just switch off caring about you and neither can I change how things have turned out.

You had even told me it was a bad idea. You said you didn’t want me to get hurt. When you said that to me, I thought you meant you didn’t want to break my heart, but that was a risk I was prepared to take. Now I wonder if you knew it would end in me getting physically hurt too. Is that just how you treat women? The ‘over a hundred’ of them. My God I was pitifully stupid to go there. I get that now.

Over three months I’ve waited for the results of the blood tests I was advised to take after you mashed me up. I know you promised me you were clean, but you also said you didn’t want to hurt me. Get where I’m coming from? I spent the summer wondering, dreading what you might have given me. In addition to the bruises and the broken heart that is. Thank God it appears you were telling the truth on that occasion. I’m clear. You have no idea the tears I wept just hearing those words, the relief I felt. Because unlike you I don’t have a string of dubious exes. You’re the only dubious ex in my life. This was a part of the nightmare I wasn’t prepared for, feeling I should be ashamed of myself because only stupid girls and sluts have unprotected sex. But as my friend, I trusted you. Guess that proves how stupid I actually am.

I figure you know why I kept coming back for more and let you do the things you did? I know this is just more proof of my stupidity, but I actually believed, and probably still do if I’m honest, that you would at some point realise that you could love me. That being with me (other than just for an occasional fuck) was something you could actually do after all. To be fair you’d sent out so many mixed messages over the months, I just kept hoping that one day your emotions and your reasoning would catch up with they way you looked at me, and indeed the blatantly obvious chemistry between us. You never just screwed me and left. You were very happy to hold me as we slept in my bed. I still reflect on how perfectly our bodies just fitted and how incredibly safe I felt with you. Ironically. I still can’t get over that. I miss you.

I miss getting pissed with you. Or watching your drunken antics when I was stone cold sober. I miss bantering with you and the amicable way we took the piss out of each other. The way you would spontaneously turn to me and cuddle me. Driving you home and enjoying that oh-so-slightly lingering kiss goodbye. I miss flirting with you, safe in the knowledge that you would always politely turn me down. Until that day when you said ‘maybe’ and my logic and emotions began to totally unravel. And yes, I’ll be honest, I miss the sex, because let’s face it, it was so damn good. Until it went bad. 

I don’t believe you went out to hurt me that night. Although I saw traces of anger in you I’d not seen before, I still believed I was safe with you. I thought it was generalised and not particularly aimed at me. Now I’m not sure. Can I just say you really hurt me. Actual physical pain. I should’ve tried harder to say no. But maybe it was just the knowledge that this was to be our last night together that caused me to allow myself to be humiliated and hurt, I’m not sure. Maybe I just have so little self respect that I didn’t really care. Perhaps I figured if I let you degrade me like that you would come back for more. I don’t think logic particularly came into it. 

I wish we could enjoy a pint together and a laugh – I’d give anything for that, but I’m still too vulnerable. The fact that I can still easily imagine inviting you back to mine for the night proves that. I need to heal, and I suspect you do too. 

For what it’s worth, it wasn’t me who called the police, it was the doctor I saw. But you shouldn’t have left me needing medical attention in the first place. I don’t feel angry with you. As we’d acknowledged previously we’re both just fucked up and for that reason we should probably never have got together, even on a casual basis. But that doesn’t stop me wanting you. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of coming to try and speak with you, but have held myself back for fear of getting hurt again or rejected. It’s a constant battle between head and heart. It’s tearing me apart. I know you never loved me, but I am still wholeheartedly sold out on you and would do anything to be yours, even despite the cost. I love you, you bastard, and would forgive you anything. 

You know I still want you to be happy. I hate seeing the way your demons keep you down. I wanted to be the one who held you and helped you heal, but I can’t can I? Even if you let me in, I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to deal with your fears and my own, but I’d try, given half a chance. I’d do anything.

Your Angel x