Part of me really loves you, but most of me is over this.
I don’t know what I thought would happen when I came to see you. The first 30 minutes was totally expected, and I was planning to leave at that point, but something in me wanted to see what you would do if I stayed.
I care about you a great deal, and I’m down to fuck until you go back, we can even be mushy because that comes pretty naturally. But, honestly, I haven’t been wanting this for a long time. Sure, that part of me that loves you will rear its hormonal head once and a while, but… Ugh.
I feel like I lied when I said I loved you. As soon as the sex-feelings faded I went right back to feeling “meh” about us.
Sorry. I wrote this as awkwardly as possible so it wouldn’t be worth reading more than once.
I’d love to email with you because you’re still a very interesting young man, but we’ll most likely dissolve into a shit pile, just like you and Kercheval. Unless you ask otherwise, I’ll probably send you stuff that I get excited about because I like to do that. If you don’t want that, let’s hope I maintain the grace to respect your wishes.