I’ve drafted about 30 responses to your email. Most in my head, but I also spent hours on a few screen versions. Reading them over I became convinced silence expressed what I wanted to say better than I could. I still think that’s true, but I seem unable to stop trying to say something. Maybe actually sending an email will allow me to stop. I don’t know. If I send it I will have to hope so. But you can be sure that if you are reading this it’s because I finally hit “send” in a weak moment and already regret it.
I found your email very insensitive. I told you in October how hurt I was and that I felt much worse than I did after my breakup with L. You know how long it took me to get over that. And still less than three months later you email me to say you “miss me” (as a friend) and hope I’m “happy”? Happy as you are, you meant. If you cared about me the way you used to (or seemed to) you could not have said those things. And that, to me, was the real message: you don’t care. Not in any way I recognize. Emailing me with what you think are “friendly” intentions just rubs my nose in it.
One big reason I do not contact you is there is no point. Not as far as I’m concerned. There is no relationship to work on, preserve, or salvage. We were never “friends,” and never will be. Lovers are not friends, even if it superficially seems like it. And I am not only uninterested in being friends, I’m insulted you think we could be. Or that I would ever accept such an emasculated role in your life. I won’t. Ever.
I still stand by what I told you in October about my responsibility for the relationship ending. I was neglectful, and sometimes a jerk. If that caused you to fall out of love with me I can’t say I didn’t deserve it. But I feel a lot of pain and anger over your, essentially, lying to me every day of our relationship about your real feelings for J. That makes everything you ever said about your feelings for me a lie too; at least partially. And it makes our whole relationship seem like it was fake. Like you were just using me while waiting for him to contact you again. That’s probably an exaggeration, but I think it’s not entirely wrong either. Now I can’t even have happy memories of you. I look back and think none of it was real. Maybe you’ll want to argue with that view of history, or rationalize why it is not as bad as I see it. I don’t want to hear it.
Just leave me alone. I hope you live a long and happy life, but I never want to see you or hear from you again.