You wrote me a note on Threads, and I should have ignored it, but I still care.

I remember the first day I ever saw you. I was studying to be a CNA and you walked into the room. Everything else dropped away, and I sat there stunned by you.

I remember thinking of myself as dirty when I thought you were too young for me to date, and I remember the joy in my heart when your mother told me how old you really were.

I remember how much you were shaking, and how much I was shaking, the first time I practiced a chair transfer, my arms wrapped around you for a simple moment.

I remember the first time I went to your house, and the state it was in. Going back to your room laying down and watching “All Dogs Go To Heaven” with you.

I remember that you had problems saying Sex when we first got together, and you would say Six instead.

I remember you blushing for years talking about how your friends called you the blushing Virgin.

I remember the fight that made me rush to move you out of your mother’s, remember being worried about how you talked about killing yourself.

I remember your cat Grace Marie, who was not happy about the move. Remember how heartbroken you were when she ran away. Remember your mother and you foisting a cat upon me that I didn’t want, and that cat becoming my little buddy. And I remember him always choosing me over you no matter what I did and how much that hurt you.

I remember that next birthday, where we picked up your little black cat. Remember how the second they let her into the room to meet you, she ran up and started nuzzling your chin.

I remember you hated that duplex, remember working extra so we could get out of there.

I remember our first apartment. There were a lot of mistakes made here, but we worked together and stayed with each other.

I remember your excitement the first time I took you to a store and bought you a laptop so we could play World Of Warcraft together.

I remember all the times you helped me when I was first injured and unable to keep working at the job I loved.

I remember moving in with my parents, how upset and depressed I was. I remember the struggle to pull myself out of it, and the work you did to help.

I remember moving out of my parent’s house even though we weren’t ready because you didn’t enjoy living out in the sticks.

I remember our second apartment. We weren’t there long, but I remember choosing to quit smoking there.

I remember when our friends were forced to move and how excited you were to help them when they moved in with us.

I remember the house in Lakewood, all the different diets I tried, some successful, some not.

I remember losing 120 pounds in 6 months, and you putting up with me as I struggled with that extreme diet.

I remember getting cameras and how excited you were to use them, even though you never really did use it because you were afraid of breaking it.

I remember being kicked out of that house during Covid, scrambling to find a new place.

I remember moving in, excited to start working again and build more for us.

I remember you trying to get me up and down the stairs more, and I remember telling you exactly how much pain those damned things caused me.

I remember trying to diet, but one or the other of us always knocking ourselves off track.

I remember the infection that started in my leg, the panic you had for me and my safety.

I remember being in the hospital listening to machines beeping and only wanting to go home to be with my loving woman.

I remember being released, going home and the pain that made it so I could barely get out of bed let alone stand.

I remember laying in that room staring at everything and talking with you about making more room.

I remember when you handed me your phone to fix it. Remember when the message popped up that shattered my world.

I remember thinking about killing myself, calling my sister, and her making a 45 minute drive in 10 minutes.

I remember you spending a week kissing me telling me that you love me and that you just needed some time to have some peace.

I remember pressing you and telling me you no longer wanted a relationship.

I remember moving out and the promises you made to our friends that you didn’t keep.

I remember all the things you left behind, and how much room they took up in the room.

I remember trying to stay your friend even after all that bullshit. Remember trying to talk to you and make sure that you’re okay because I know you have your own issues.

I remember telling you I don’t know if I could ever be in a relationship with you again, and that I was going to struggle to trust other people because of everything that happened. 

I remember when you insulted me, and I asked for an apology. That seemed to be enough to tell you never to ask me to reach out to you again. 

I remember breaking that because I needed to know why I didn’t understand. And I remember a long conversation where you worked very hard to paint me as a villain in our relationship. 

I remember how hard it was stay strong and keep the faith and be positive after that talk. 

I remember you reaching out to me just a few days ago to tell me how you’re watching me and how you see me working and how you’re proud of me and happy for me. And I remember telling you to fuck off. 

You assumed I was angry. Maybe a little, but no not really. But I don’t see why you would reach out. I don’t see why you couldn’t accept my friendship all those months ago. I don’t see why you chose now to reach out to me. 

I wouldn’t change a thing in our 20 years together. We had good times, we had bad times. I wouldn’t even change when you showed me your true colors.

I don’t understand why you’d reach out and tell me all this if you didn’t want friendship, and why you couldn’t just fucking apologize. 

So I see you seeing me. I see you being proud. I see that you tried to strip away all the work that I tried to do for so long with you and that you fought me on. And I reject fucking all of it. 

I remember a woman that I loved once, and I remember just how badly it hurt when she stabbed me in my heart.

Thank you for reaching out that one last time. Confirming exactly who and what you want to be to me. It makes it so much easier to finish moving on, even as it brings up pain and memories. 

We had a lot of good years together, and up until the day that I found out you were cheating on me I believed every single time you told me I was your soulmate. But now it feels like you’re just trying to hurt me. And I don’t appreciate that. You want to be my friend? I don’t know if I want you as a friend. Not anymore. And I have no interest in chasing you anymore.

So I see you seeing me, and I say, as long as you’re far enough away that you can’t hurt me.