Dear Jeremy

March 11, 2012
By , Frederick, CO
Dear Jeremy,
How could you? I just don’t get it. I don’t understand. You pretend to care. You are so good at it. You took your sweet time getting close to me. Getting to know me, becoming friends with me, all those times you could have flirted with me, like all those other guys and your brother, but didn’t. I didn’t even like you back then. Although everyone said you liked me. You made me believe you were just one of those sweet, but pathetic, guys who was too nice to get anywhere. Back when I was queen of the bees, it was nice to have someone like you, but I sure as hell didn’t need you. I was above you.
Things have changed a bit since then.
I see you in the hallways, an arm around each girl, with others following close behind. That used to be me with guys. I hear about how you go to the movies with them and make them laugh. That used to be us. Now your brother is the nice one and you have turned into … a monster… You are a pig. It sickens me. When I see you now, my eyebrows raise and my stomach churns inside me. My breath turns a sickly sweet as it speaks your simple name. It rolls off of my tongue like dirt being rinsed from sinful hands. I glare at you so hard. But you continue on with your heavenly life, regardless of my hatred towards you. But do you really think I hate you? No. That is just to mask how hurt I am inside. How did this happen to us? Let’s rewind a little…
As we got closer throughout the first semester, you became more important to me. I would make sure to invite you to group outings. We would go and hang out by ourselves, ditch every class we could to talk to each other, and make sure we called each other over break. In fact, I considered you one of my best friends. I told you everything and somehow you knew exactly what to say to make me feel good about myself. No one has ever been able to make me feel good about myself the way you could. You took care of me that one night I had too much to drink, when you could have taken advantage of me like the rest of those guys. You talked to me when I was crying over a breakup, after fighting with my parents, or just to talk. You would talk to my sister sometimes and you would even get her to like you. My parents thought you were the most respectful guy they had ever met. You were the perfect gentlemen and I loved to hang out with you. Those compliments you gave me started to mean something; I started to take them seriously.
We became so close that… we were a little bit more than friends… I had never done this with a guy before; been between good friends and girlfriend/boyfriend. We would hold hands at the movies, hug each other for as long as we could, and say ‘sweet dreams’ before bed each night. But we never defined what we were, well at least not for the longest time. I tried making hints. Everyone was wondering about us. What was I supposed to tell them? We weren’t dating, we didn’t even know if we technically liked each other. I waited and waited and waited… But no progress was ever made. Just the same fun, but confusing, relationship. A girl could only wait so long before she realizes her prince charming is not coming. So I moved on, and got back together with my ex. Someone did not like that very much…
Surprisingly, That was one of the most satisfying nights of my life. After fighting and fighting about how this guy was going to lie to me again and use me and blah blah blah… Texting throughout the whole movie, screaming at each other afterwards, yelling at each other on the phone, I finally gave up. If you weren’t going to be supportive, I couldn’t talk to you about it.
“Why, why do you care so much?” I said, “I promise that if he hurts me again, I won’t come crying to you, if it would really piss you off this much…” And finally, after all that we’ve been through, you finally admitted that you liked me. Satisfaction in the purest. That you were jealous, and you were sorry. “Didn’t you see? Couldn’t you tell that I liked you too? I liked you so much…”
“Crap, am I too late? ?” you asked me.
“I don’t know…Maybe…But you have me second-guessing Peter now.”
“Guys lie, Allie. After what he did to you last time, I just don’t trust him anymore, and I don’t think you should either.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe Peter wasn’t worth it. You and I already had so much going for us; I didn’t want to put that all to waste. I’m sure you would give me time to think about it.
But the next day, was when you messed up. You took back…everything you said… you said that you weren’t yourself. “I am so, so sorry.” was what you kept saying but all I could hear was “I lied to you, and I actually hate your guts.” Guess who met the guy qualification for creating a perfect lie? I felt so stupid. You tricked me. You said Peter was the liar when the real liar was you the whole time. You made me feel so unwanted. I wanted to cry right there in the middle of Dillard’s, but I didn’t. No need to look more pathetic than I already was. I said it was fine, like I always do, and I ignored everything about you.
And that is how it’s been ever since. People say forgive and forget, but I have done neither. You have done nothing to deserve my forgiveness; you’ve barely asked for it. We just think avoiding each other is the best way to solve things. And who knows, maybe it is…

After today, however, I don’t know what the hell to do. I was waiting after dance team practice for the basketball game, so I thought I would walk over to the bathroom the check my makeup. That is where we awkwardly passed by each other.
You awkwardly said “Hi,” and I awkwardly replied, “Hi.”

You asked me where I was going and I told you I was just walking around. You asked me if I wanted to go for a walk.

“Okay.” So we’re walking, catching up, trying to forget about why we haven’t talked in a month and a half. I told you I pulled a muscle on the back of my thigh. No, that was not an invitation for you to touch it. You also didn’t have permission to touch my sides or my back or… “Jeremy! Don’t touch me there!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry! I was just joking around.” You said.

This was repeated at least 5 or 6 times before I asked you “Are you high? You never act this way.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Okay, that wasn’t an answer, but whatever. You kept interrupting our conversation with touching me so inappropriately. I was just irritated. Finally, you pissed me off. “Stop it Jeremy! You know what, I’m done. This is stupid…” I started to stand up and walk away.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you pleaded. So I walked back. You opened your arms to me. “C’mere.” you said, gesturing a hug. I gave you a funky look, but I slowly walked up and accepted your peace offering. Bad idea. You turned me around so you were hugging my back.

“Jeremy, what are you doi-“ but I was muffled as you smacked your hand over my mouth. You started reaching down my shirt and I tried to kick you away. You backed me up against the wall and somehow held down both of my arms as your hands went beneath my bra and other places they should have never been. I was kicking both of my legs and screaming, but no sound came out. I was terrified. I kept wriggling, trying to escape your grasp, but you were too strong for me. Finally you let me go. I turned and screamed, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” But you said nothing. I just stared at you, demanding an answer. My eyes started to well.
“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” You looked like you had just seen a ghost.
“NO S***.” I yelled. I was so pissed, but so upset at the same time. I started to walk away.
“Wait. I’m sorry.”
“What now?! What?!” I turned and looked at you but you were just standing there, shaking. “Why are you shaking.”
“I… I don’t know… I’m so sorry.” For the eighteenth time. I didn’t believe it once.
“Yeah I’m sure.” I started to walk away again.
“Wait so what are we going to do about this?”
“We?? What do you mean we?? We are going to never speak of this again.” I couldn’t have spit out a more dumb answer.
“I guess we’ll do what we usually do.” You said, still in a trance.
“What’s that?” I spat bitterly.
“Ignore each other for a few weeks.”
It was true, that is what we usually did. “Yeah, it might be a little longer than that.”
You: “Okay. I guess I’ll see you later.”
Me: “Bye.” And stormed off. Immediately I began to cry, my heart still pounding, my arms hurt from you squeezing them so hard, my breasts red and scratched. I ran to my locker and never talked to you again.
So, that being said, how dare you. How dare you even lay a finger on me today after what you did a month and a half ago. I let you back into my life once, earlier, and you screwed that up too. So don’t you ever touch me again. You make me choke. I should have called for help, or tried to defend myself or something. Even now I should have told someone what you did. You scared me. That was harassment. I was terrified, squirming in the intense grasp of your arms, trying to break free from your suffocating grip. I feel incredibly violated. And all because I wanted to be friends again… wow. You deserved to cry after what you did to me. Yes, I saw the tears welling in your eyes, so don’t even try to hide it. It’s fine, Jeremy, it’s fine. I cried too. Now everything should go back to normal. Me ignoring you, you ignoring me, and not having a clue what is going on in that big, horny, selfish brain of yours.
Love, Allie

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