I am sorry I didn't sleep with you

talking to imaginary lovers

Hey,

I wanted to write this letter to say I am sorry I didn’t sleep with you. The moment’s passed, but I still think about it. I used to think it was for the best, but now I think it kinda sucks.

I want to blame the trads and the reactionary feminists for brainwashing me, but I have always been frigid and scared. I struggle to go with the flow. I interrupt people mid-sentence.

I am sorry if I came out too strong. If you were worried I am too intense, you were right.

I am sorry I was a coward. Fantasies are easier than real-life craft. Like everything else in life, sex takes skill and confidence. I cosplay as being born with both, but we both know better.

Listen, it’s on me; I was lazy, tired and hungry.

Like the incels we collectively bully, I preferred to go home and eat leftovers in a dark kitchen, scrolling on my phone rather than dashing butt naked across the hall, sourcing tissues and a glass of water, texting my flatmate to let him know, I brought someone.

I wish I had thicker skin. I am sorry I couldn’t take it when you said you don’t do sleepovers. You are a busy man, and I respect that. But I can’t have sex if it means the morning finds me alone. A shut door and me tucked in by myself reminds me of mini-me. I used to cry till mom picked me up but she’d never stay the whole night. I never forgave her for these tiny betrayals. I’d never forgive you.

I saw a former lover recently, good guy, but his lustre had faded. I wish I had let myself give in when his power over me was the greatest. Eating when starving is the best.

I wish I had blocked you from reading that blog I wrote about my aversion to casual sex. I didn’t lie, but I would have made an exception for you because I have an itch that only you can scratch.

I feel like a pregnant lady craving strawberries. Everything else makes me nauseous. You are my juicy strawberry. I’d eat you despite the stain you’d leave on me.

I am so sad I will die without seeing you naked. I really really really wanted to know what you looked like naked. I promise you, you wouldn’t disappoint. If only you could see you through my eyes, you’d feel like a million bucks. I pity those who lack the imagination to embrace human flesh. I am grateful I was born an omnivore, is it pansexual the kids used to call it? My sexuality is like a Western nation’s immigration policy. Those with a malicious agenda will say I am open borders; that’s fake news. My standards are strong and stable. But once someone’s cut through to me. I embrace them, give them shelter and keep them busy. They become a part of me; and, like all millennial women, I love me.

I am also so sad you won’t get to see me naked, either. I am told I look lovely, but I knew that already. I will probably be in a reationship with someone else by the time you wake up, what a pity.

One day, you will marry a woman who is less pretty but better behaved than me. I am sure she will be lovely in ways my vain mind can’t grasp and that you will have made the right choice for you. But she won’t be me.

You will be haunted by those screenshots of my Instagram stories you stash in your phone. In your 40s and 50s, when your marriage runs dry, you will cry hot tears when you realise you could have slept with a woman like me, but didn’t. I am sorry I ruined it for both of us.

I am such an idiot I didn’t sleep with you. What was I scared of? That you would leave me and I would be hurt? You left me, and I was hurt anyway.

I will miss you. Not you exactly- I will get over you eventually. But I will never get over how you made me feel. You would have been worth the heartbreak. In fact, you are.

Love,

a needy female xx