You didn’t lose me because I wanted better d*ck.

Believe what you wish, but this is why I left you.

I loved you.

You were my world.

For years.

So many years.

Just thinking about you, hearing your name spoken, or seeing something that reminded me of you, would set me on fire.

I couldn’t wait to see you.

To touch you.

To be close to you.

To love your body — and mind and spirit.

But that was then. And this is now.

The Death of Us.

You hate it when I tell you I know what you’re thinking.

Even if my assumptions are often right or pretty close to the real deal, I know my attempted mind reading infuriates you. Even if it is based on my years of observing and interacting with you — and knowing your predictable, creature of habit patterns, you don’t want me to assume.

Of course, I know that no one can ever really know what another is thinking. And yes, I know that assumptions kill relationships.

However, with you I got good at making assumptions. Even wrong ones — and yes, I am not afraid to admit to my mistakes. Over the years, there were so many times you said so little or said nothing at all. I was left to fill in the blanks.

Was I beautiful in your eyes?

Did you desire me?

Did you want me?

Was I actually a priority like you said I was, when the evidence suggested otherwise?

I never really knew.

I asked you.

I begged for you to let me into your world — into your beautiful mind.

I was left to guess. I was left to assume. To create my own explanations and justifications.

You spent so much time locked into your own world.

Eventually I had no choice.

It didn’t matter how much I loved you.

I found myself standing before two crossroads: If I were to ever feel fully alive and happy in this one lifetime, and live it in alignment with my values and beliefs, I would have to choose you or choose me.

I left you because I didn’t know what was real.

I could never really get through to you that you also made assumptions. Sometimes so many that I would have to guess whether what you said about me was real or a projection.

Sometimes I didn’t know what was real. I began questioning myself. I began wondering if I was going to lose my mind if I stayed longer.

The difference between us and our assumptions, however, was that you communicated so little. I never really knew you or what you needed with us or to be happy.

I, on the other hand, wore my heart on my sleeve and shared everything — sometimes to the point of oversharing.

I wanted you to have all of the information, so you wouldn’t have to make assumptions or feel that heavy, familiar place I knew well of not knowing where you stand in a relationship.

A friend once observed that it seemed like I handed you a road map to my needs. A step-by-step guide.

That I mapped out exactly what I needed to be fulfilled in our relationship.

There was little mystery to what I needed , at least in my mind. I said what I needed hundreds of different ways over the years. Sometimes even in texts or poetry, just in case changing the medium of message delivery would make it easier to reach you.

I needed you to communicate more of your inner world, so I wouldn’t have to guess or make assumptions about your thoughts, ideas, needs, wants, or desires — or about what would make you happy or what you didn’t want.

I wanted to know you wanted me in your world; that you wanted to prioritize sharing a life with me. I just wanted glimpses from time to time to know that I was in your mind and heart somewhere.

But in the end…

There was one big assumption that finally killed us.

And it wasn’t one that I made.

It was not reflected in anything I remember saying to you .

Yet it is one I assume you tell at cocktails parties, with a martini in one hand and a half-grin on your face.

That in the end I met someone else.

That I left you because I only wanted better d*ck.

Out of everything I said or didn’t say over the years, getting d*ck was never part of the convo.

It was never part of the equation.

Yet, it was your perfectly fabricated assumption.

An assumption that marked the death of us — and still haunts me in the dark.

It didn’t matter how many times I told you that it wasn’t true. It didn’t matter how many times I told you what I wanted or needed.

All I ever wanted was for you to see me and make me a part of your world.

I loved you —

and YOUR d*ck.

Follow me. I’ll follow you back. And if the mood strikes, please clap.

j.j. wolfe 🖤