Fuck You

Fuck you, Chris.

Yes, I'm using your goddamn name in this. There are millions of Chris's in the world. It doesn't matter if I use your name or not.

But seriously, Chris. Just fuck you. Fuck you hard and slow in the ass with a cactus. You forced yourself into my life. You guilt-tripped me into saying yes when you asked me out. You bugged me for days before I said okay. You used pretty words and lies to get me to kiss you in those woods. When I said I was uncomfortable, you took that as an invitation to kiss me and touch me even more. 

I was too shy and too nice to say no. You were just an experiment for me. Someone I can test my sexuality with. Not someone I wanted to give myself to.

Chris, you scared me. The stories you made up were weird and creepy. The drugs you did only made it worse. I didn't want to get in the back seat with you. I didn't want you to kiss me or put your hands on or in me.

But I let you. Because the uncomfortable feelings were worth the experimentation. People telling me we were a cute couple and making cute couple jokes about us was worth it. Feeling like someone actually cared about me was worth the moments of uncomfortableness.

After I broke up with you, you wormed your way back into my friend group. You tried to get back with me but claiming your love to our friends. Even then, I was too shy to say no. Even with someone I openly disliked, someone who freaked me out and scared me. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't-- I still don't-- want to hurt anyone.

I kept quiet then and ignored you until you dropped it. But you still stuck around. You made small threats, some my closest friend didn't even notice. You mentioned you knew how to make a bomb while looking at me. You came to lunch high (at least I hope you were high) and started talking about flipping the table over so it'd hit me. It scared me. I literally thought about telling the police, especially after you said you wanted to shoot everyone in the school.

But I kept quiet. Because I was obviously overreacting. I didn't want to get involved in something that wasn't true. I didn't want to hurt anyone.

You told me you were a half-vampire, and I still tell people about that. You told me you fought demons and believed you were a clone at some point. Those stories were weird, but mostly they creeped me out. They worried me about what went on in your head. If someone could seriously believe in stuff like that, what else could he do?

For years, Chris, I told myself that I didn't regret it. But thinking about it now makes my skin crawl. And, fuck, you made me so uncomfortable around men. I can't even be near my father or grandfather without being nervous or scared.

I regret saying yes to you. I regret you being my first kiss. I regret you being the first person to touch me. I would have been much happier if it was my first girlfriend, or even the first girl I ever kissed. Neither one of them pushed like you did. They never used sweet words or guilt trips.

I suppose it wasn't too bad. You helped me realize who I am. But what it did to me is the whole reason why I hate you.

The only thing I don't regret is leaving you before you could convince me to have sex. The last thing I want is to have given my entire self to you.

Next Thursday, before I leave for college, I'm going to hug my granddad big and tell him I love him. I'm going to feel uncomfortable when he kisses my cheek. When I pull away, all I'm going to think about is how much I hate you for this.

And how much I hate myself for not realizing what you did to me until now. It wasn't experimentation. It was me being too shy and you refusing to accept what "I don't want to do this" and "I'm uncomfortable with that" means.

I hate you, Chris.

Fuck you.