To The Last Boy Who Kissed Me,

Do you remember how your fingers felt running through my hair? Or how my lips tasted on that chilly December night? Or how soft my skin was on the spot by my collar where you marked me?

You were something, boy. The true definition of a gentleman, so I thought. You opened doors for me and surprised me with treats. You told me how beautiful I looked every time you saw me. You held my hand and walked me home in the cold winter air. The perfect guy, you seemed to be.

I think you can understand how disappointed I was when you disappeared, left without a trace. There were no more kisses, or compliments, or hugs or dates. At least I hope you realized how hurt I was when the texts stopped coming, or when you didn’t return my calls.

I didn’t ask questions, I had them, but I just let you go. Did I do something? Did you lie about thinking I was beautiful? Deep down I knew you didn’t reciprocate my feelings for you, so I can’t say I was surprised when you finally left.

Do you know what that does to a person, though? Do you realize the doubt I have in myself now? The worry that the next boys will do that same. The fear of abandonment it triggered? That maybe everyone is lying to me when they call me beautiful, or say that I look nice, or that they love spending time with me. Or the anxiety that they’ll cancel plans, or stop texting back.

When I decided to message you after six months, I wasn’t expecting a response, so you can imagine my surprise when you messaged back and agreed to meet up with me again. I was so pleased about how much fun we had, we picked up right where we left off like there wasn’t half a year of silence between us. I was happy. That night we made more plans, leaving me eager and ready to see where things would go.

Boy, you surprised me yet again. Things were different, you seemed to care more, I felt safe. I was happy again. There was a glimmer of a future.

I. Felt. Safe.

But yet again I was left with the same questions. Did I do something? Were you lying again? Was I as ugly as I thought I was?

Here I am. I was never safe. And you’ve left me again to wonder.

To The Last Boy Who Kissed Me, why?