Mr. Four Seasons, Part 3

Mr. Four Seasons, Part 3

 

Dear Mr. Four Seasons,

Much time has passed since our magical weekend in New England (from Maine, to Portsmouth, NH and then finally Boston). In such a short time you managed to con me into trusting you as well as begin to form feelings for you. I will admit, I sometimes fall hard and fast; this was certainly one of those times. I was honest with you and you pursued me anyway. You knew that I was going through a divorce but it wasn’t a messy one and I was not in shambles despite my failed marriage. You said that you liked that, that it said a lot about me, it showed that I was strong, stable, and it made me more attractive to you. You are a smart enough guy, you know that despite how strong I seemed on the outside that I was still in a very vulnerable position. For you to do what you did is shameful. I hope that you live with that shame every day – no matter what your reasoning may be.

What did you do that was so terrible? You painted this beautiful, magnificent, hopeful picture of a potential romantic relationship with you – a new, fresh, wonderful beginning for me. You painted that fucking picture and put it right in front of me and you let it sit there for a couple days… then maybe a week while you were supposedly in South Africa doing some charity thing (which I very highly doubt, by the way, people that do charity have to have at least an ounce of compassion for others which you clearly do not). Then, you took said beautiful, magnificent, hopeful picture of a potential romantic relationship with you and you very slowly started to paint over it; until it was like it was never even there at all. Leaving me to question everything – am I that stupid? Did that really happen? How did I not see this coming? How did I let this happen to me? How could he?

Shortly after you returned from your supposed trip to South Africa I realized you weren’t responding to my texts. I was surprised after a couple days because you said that you would call me when you returned but 3 days after your return I still had not heard from you. As time ticked by I started to get anxious that maybe you were too good to be true after all. So, I simply messaged you on Facebook just in case you weren’t getting my texts for whatever reason (which, by the way, was highly likely because I was legitimately having issues with my phone at the time). I very much disliked the feeling that I was being a “basic” needy girl. Fuck that. I don’t need anyone. I’ve learned that from my failed marriage. I have good people in my life that deserve my time and attention – I am not chasing anyone so, fuck you for making me feel this way. Anyway, I reached out – you replied and told me you were in MI and didn’t have great service, “hopefully that is all that it is”. Yup, instill that hope back in me – like you didn’t already know that you were about to blow me off completely. Good job. You are really great at being a dick. Good for you, man. Good. For. You.

So, a few more days go by and still I hear nothing from you. It’s bullshit because you offered up the “I’ll call you’s and the “see you in Chicago” and all the fucking future talk. That was ALL you. So, again, fuck you. Eventually, I talk myself into just calling you; thinking and hoping there is a simple explanation for not hearing from you. You don’t pick up. I send you a quick text just saying to call me when you have a chance – again, hoping that you were just busy or it wasn’t a good time to talk. More days go by. I talk to my best friend and she offers up the information that some of your friends felt that things were moving too fast and that I was coming on too strong. Fuck that. I understand that some things I did could be misinterpreted that way but let’s be fair and honest – it was mostly you. If it came down to it, you were the one that could be accused of coming on “too strong”. Otherwise, I would not have been confused when I didn’t hear from you. I wouldn’t have thought that there was something there if there wasn’t. I am not stupid and I am not crazy but this bullshit was starting to piss me off. Be a man – tell me if you are not into me anymore, tell me that you don’t want to get involved because of the divorce or whatever your excuse may be, tell me you changed your mind – tell me something. Man up, grow some balls, and tell me the fucking truth. How hard can it be – a text message, a 5 minute or less phone call. I didn’t even get that and it’s so fucking disrespectful that I can’t even fathom what your mother or family in general would think if they knew that you did what you did. They would be embarrassed – and you should be, too.

Have some respect for yourself and more importantly – for me, because clearly I am the better person in the situation. I sent you texts stating a small portion of how I felt about what you were doing but you still have not had the decency to tell me why you decided to just stop talking to me – no warning, no reason. So, I hope that you knew exactly what you were doing and I hope that it hovered over you all day and all night, and I hope that it still does. I hope that you think about me often and I hope that it makes you sad and embarrassed and regretful. I hope that you are so full of regret and shame that it never fully leaves your mind; the thought of me and what you pulled on me is always running in the background of your mind. Guilt. You should feel guilt. You should feel guilt because you made me feel like I was crazy, that I had imagined what happened between us, and by just abruptly disappearing from correspondence you were conjuring my inner crazy-girl. Every woman has it – the inner craziness that certain guys can summon out of you. But, my sleazy friend, I would not stoop to your level, I would not give you the satisfaction – you are not that important. You may think you are because I have written too much about you but in the grand scheme of things you were just a story. Just some dumb guy that fucked up his chance to potentially be happy with an awesome girl. I will find someone else – I am not worried about that in the least. You, on the other hand, you need to work out you issues because clearly the whole story about how you are “picky” and that is why you are still single is highly unlikely. Look in the mirror. Go to a therapist – you have some shit to figure out.

 

I have to say; I wrote this a couple months ago and I was unsure at the time but, reading it now is gratifying. So, for once and for all: Fuck you, Mr. Four Seasons. I am certain I dodged a bullet with you so thank you for that and thank you for instilling doubt in my mind because it is making me all the more “picky” when it comes to my next relationship. Ad trust me, I know what I need now and what I want and your smug, pompous, “privledged” ass is SO not what I want or need in my life. So, go fuck yourself you fucking scum bag. J

 

-M.

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