A Letter To The Men I’ve Loved, Lost, And Found



I was barely six-years-old and you used to make me blush and feel all jolly and happy every time you were around. I loved seeing you in the hallway at school. You were older, and I felt so special. For the first time, I felt like I had someone all for myself, I used to get the butterflies and it was all so young and pure, it was just lovely, so lovely. I remember our parents taking us on holiday together, and I quickly became “the boss” in the relationship. You were following me around, and it was all so cute and at the same time fun.

We met when I started elementary school, and it didn’t end until I turned probably 12. Can we consider it my longest relationship? Maybe you were the one, we were just too young to figure it out. Oh,  to be young and in love again.


We were 15 and you were the first guy I’ve truly loved. I got absorbed into your aura, your eyes, and all the attention you were giving me. It was different, it was real, we thought we were adults already, I was convinced it would have lasted forever.

I remember lying down on a bench, the sun was burning, it was so hot, all summer long. It was August, you then became my August love. I wish it would have lasted forever, I wish our love could have been made only by happy memories, but there have been some tears, and we can’t forget them, unfortunately. I wish I could. It was hard, despite being both so young. Where did it all start to go wrong? We’ll probably never have the answer to that.

You will always be my teenage love.

Nothing, or no one, is ever going to change it.


You were the most self-centered person I’ve ever come across in my life. Such a narcissist, so selfish, so tall and charming at the same time. I loved your curls, your never fading tan, the way you were laughing throwing your head back, looking like a little child.

You kept me there, I was available 24/7. My family hated you, it was wrong, you were toxic.

It was rebellious. You were in another relationship, I wasn’t a girlfriend, was I even the lover? I still don’t know, not even today, what was my role in your life. Who was I playing? It wasn’t love.

At least not for you.

But those moments we managed to keep to ourselves, when no one was watching and we were sitting on the floor, your whole body wrapped around mine, those are the memories I will never forget. You were mine, for a brief moment, you were.

Not hers, but mine.

I will never forget them, the absurdity we shared, the nonsense we made, the connection we had, the chemistry, the obsession.

It didn’t make sense at all, but maybe that’s what love is all about.


That was it, wasn’t it? It was you. It’s always been you. It was meant to be.

You, barefoot, with your stupid arrogant smile, your quiet eyes, the way you were checking out the room, every single damn second of the day, looking for me.

The endless pages I wrote about you.

All those words I wasted on you.

I got drunk so many times.

I cried myself to sleep, almost every night.

You were too smart, too handsome, too intelligent, too well educated, too crazy, and I was still too insecure. Maybe I would have started walking around barefoot too, maybe I would have let myself go, stopped being so paranoid about everything, and finally live. You were my favorite bet I lost. And I lost so many times because I couldn’t stop betting you would have finally make up your mind and choose me. Like I chose you the first day you showed me a playing card, the five of hearts.

You then became the king of mine. My heart.

We would have read Bukowski in bed together, we would have survived only by drinking with coffee and Evian water. And love. Because that’s what we were all about: poems, art, books, love and good coffee. And maybe some wine.

I heard you love wine now, funny how I stopped drinking it.


Oh, you would have been the perfect match.

We share the same dreams, ideals, principles, you taught me so much. You told where to go, what to do, how to when I was only sixteen. You opened my eyes.

From the beginning you were my green light, I always wanted to be like you. There is not a single thing I can mention that you haven’t heard about before, and you always, always add something to the story, and I always learn. We all grew up, you did too, but somehow you managed to remain pure. Your pure ideas, dreams, hopes, fantasies.

Your knowledge has no end, you’re like my favorite book, except for the fact that you don’t have an end, and I love that. I love it so much. You make places special, you make other people feel special, you’re the best storyteller I’ve ever met, and I will always love you. In the best platonic way possible.


It took me a while to see how wrong you would have been for me anyway. If I stop and think about it now, I can’t think of any single reason why I even liked you in the first place. What was it? You were shallow, boring, not interested in anything at all, the world was going crazy around you and you wouldn’t even bother, to do anything. To say anything.

Why was I so obsessed with you? It will probably never make sense, but it happened. I regret it, I wasted so many years crying because of you, only to see you end up with a dumb tall skinny blonde Barbie. It then made sense, you were perfect for each other. I would have never been a good match for you, thank God it didn’t’ work out. I would have been stuck, with you, in your boring routine, I would have ended hating myself, the person I could have become with you on my side.


Let me be honest about you. I felt for you, despite the distance, the miles and miles that were separating us, and yet deep down I thought that we could have made it, somehow. Even if you were younger, so much younger, and there was a whole ocean between us.

I lived in a bubble for almost two years, convinced it was me, who you truly wanted, and yes, it made me feel powerful. I thought I was in charge, that your words were true, that you would have book those flight tickets eventually and we could have started a life together, here.

How naïve, how immature. You still have a whole life ahead of you, different plans, different experiences are awaiting, and I selfishly had other plans for us. You probably never even wanted to be a part of it, and you know what? It’s okay.

I’ve forgiven myself for pushing it so much, I forgave you for lying so much about the whole thing instead of being honest with me. But it’s okay, I probably still the one who owes you an apology anyway. I hope this will make up for it. Just know, I still think we would have been extraordinary.


You made those two dates we had perfect.

I was already picturing our red hair children running through the garden, your motorcycle, a nice house in the countryside, somewhere in the Netherlands.

It was the shortest “relationship” I’ve ever had, yet it seemed so perfect and ready to bring us together somewhere.

You kissed me not even two hours after you met me, lost somewhere in a city-center garden, you grabbed my hand and took me around for the rest of the day. We made plans: you would have had a mid-life crisis at 35 and I would have work from home and argue about your new motorcycle. We created the perfect illusion in less than 48 hours, and just as it began, it just as fast ended. It was the perfect relationship, the perfect couple, the perfect everything. But the reality is far from being perfect.

I would have loved to spend the rest of my life in your arms, instead, we were given only 48 hours together. Some things are just simply not meant to be, despite a very good start.

I wish I would have known.


I’ve been waiting for you since the day I turned 19.

I laid my eyes on you, I had the biggest crush, it has now turned into love. I know you’re out there, being busy, shining like the crazy diamond you are. Life is following your very busy schedule.

But the dots are connected, and all the reasons, and trust me, there have been so many, in the end, were always bringing me back to you. You are the reason why no one else did work out before.

I’m so grateful for our chaos, I can’t wait to meet you.

To hold your hand in public, to take your pain away, to let you know you are my favorite everything, my golden boy. My star man in the sky.

I’ll see you soon. Hopefully, in one of the houses, or in an airport, or on a run, we will both go on, on a rainy day, somewhere in London. It will all make sense then, I promise you, it will.