To The Man Who Took My Virginity: Fuck You

Fuck you for taking advantage of my naïve 18-year-old self. You certainly fooled me. Ours was a classic story that many girls know all too well. Girl meets boy at a college party after a few drinks and decides that he is the hottest man in the room. Tall, dark-haired, and older, with a suave smile like you knew you were hot shit. After more shots and light conversation about your band, you took my hand and led me to your bedroom upstairs. Briefly passing my intoxicated friend, you winked at her like we had a secret. I thought I was special. Fuck you.

That night was an above-average hookup; complete with whispers of compliments you knew I wanted to hear. You were older and knew how to make a woman feel good. I told you I don’t do one-night stands and you told me you respected that. So we did everything but. As I got dressed to leave, you asked for my number and promised to text.

I brushed off our one sided conversations, and made excuses for you to my friends. We connected with our love for music. When you told me you liked The 1975 (my favorite band), I fell two steps further. It definitely wasn’t love, but I couldn’t get you off my mind. I met you again one Thursday night and we smoked. We got high and watched my favorite comedy central show in your bed half dressed. The minutes flew by like they seemingly do and I had to walk home alone at 3am. But I told myself it was okay because you were tired. How foolish of me.

We texted more and I convinced my trusting self that this was going somewhere. I had on blinders to your imperfections that were more like red flags. The weekend rolled around and Saturday night I was ready to get drunk and go out. 12:21 AM I desperately texted you because I wanted to hookup. Like the façade you wore; the good guy showed up and took me to your place. We were supposed to go to a different party I think, but my drunk self couldn’t fully comprehend what happened.

You and I talked for a while; but we both knew what we wanted sitting inches away from each other on your queen sized bed. One thing led to another and you were asking me if I was sure if I wanted to. I respected you for asking and said yes whole-heartedly. Afterward, I was too anxious to tell you that that was my first time. So I said you were my second and you never told me yours. Fuck you for making me trust you.

I couldn’t have been happier the next day, eagerly recounting the details to any of my interested friends. I thought this was just the beginning. But as the days went on, you were always too tired or drunk to hang out. I realized you never initiated conversation, and always stopped texting midway through ours. I gave it a couple days to see if you would text or call me. You never did.

Days turned to weeks and I had to accept the facts. You fucked me and left me. It was probably your mission all along; to gain my trust and let you in so you could get what you wanted.

I don’t regret what we had, but I do regret what we became. I hate you for toying with my emotions. I hate you for not blatantly stating at the beginning that you wanted sex and only sex. I hate you for making me feel not good enough for you. I hate you for being the reason for all those late nights where I tore myself down mentally. So here’s to you, my almost lover, the man who took my virginity but may never know. I hope whenever you hear Robbers by the 1975, you think of me. From the bottom of my heart, fuck you.