I’ve had sex with ten guys. Maybe eleven. Three in one night once, because I was hammered, and I only found out over the course of the next few months.
I’m in love with you. I am so so so so so weak. You’re far away, and guys are here. They think I’m sexy; they want me. There’s something wrong with me. The real reason I can’t be in a relationship with you is because I know I would cheat on you. I already have slept with another guy since our split. Two, actually. Numbers ten and eleven.
You only know about three of them. You would be so disappointed in me. I can’t even tell you.
THAT’S why I can’t be your girlfriend. The real reason. Because I haven’t been honest with you. And I probably won’t be. Because, like I said, I’m weak. And I need you, because we are meant to be together. I just ruined it. And I’m a coward.
And I hate to admit it, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that my dad hit me for twelve years, or that I was raped at fourteen. I think I’m just a slut.