Thank you

From: Felicitas Fortuna

To: Seabiscuit

Subject: Thank You

[Name],

Thank you for being honest with me about seeing someone else. It hurt more than I thought it would. Kissing you before we said goodbye was a mistake. We should not kiss again.

It was cowardly of you not to tell me sooner, and it hurt that you kept it from me. That was not kind of you to hide the truth from me; after what we shared, that is what hurts me most. I couldn’t bear to ask for how long, but I will guess a few months from what you said. 

I am sorry I was foolish enough not to get it sooner. I told myself your lack of response to my emails was due to all the stress and family drama, and I tried to be supportive as much as I could. Now I realize you were a coward and did not want to face the truth and tell me the truth. I wonder if anything you said when you broke up with me was true; it does not feel like it. How could you say you didn’t feel you should be in a relationship and needed to work on some things only to start dating someone else?

The problem is not that nothing good comes of being honest; the problem is you hid what you should have told. You knew you should have told me, but you did not. I would not have flirted with you if I had known you were seeing someone else. I wouldn’t have kissed you either. I doubt your current girlfriend knows you’ve kissed me so much. Well, you better tell her when you break up with her. She deserves to know.

I won’t ask to spend time with you. I won’t invite you to any additional events outside of the plays already scheduled for CS and LCT. Those words you said, I couldn’t tell if they were meant for her or me or both of us: “You like me too much and want to spend too much time with me, and I want to be free.” Well, I get it now. I won’t waste my time.

I deserve better. I deserve honesty and kindness, as all friends should, and I do not see that in your actions. If you want to be friends, you will have to do better and work harder at it.

But you are free, for whatever that is worth. You are free.

F

Njála – part three: Setting the Bridge on Fire

So, you ask, where did it all go wrong?

We swapped photos, which probably would have been fine except, I mentioned how some men stop responding to my emails shortly after I send a photo. (The photo I usually send is only of my face, and I attributed the end of communication as a statement on race–people assumed I must be white and don’t fit the profile of who they expected was writing to them.)

However, Njal assumed I sent them the same photos I sent him, even though I was clear in my email that it is not usually the photos I send.

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Swingin’ down at Uncle Julio’s

I couldn’t even think about drinking tap water in the hotel after that incident. I immediately headed out, wandering down 6th street but finding most places still crowded with drunk college kids. It wasn’t as bad as Friday night, but still crowded enough that I felt little desire to take the plunge and enter any of the open bars and restaurants.

By then it was close to 9 o’clock. The day had rained off and on; it was still muggy, and every now and then it began to drizzle. I wandered down to other areas closer to where Atlassian had been, figuring it was best to get away from 6th St if I wanted to get away from the college kids.

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The wet streets while wandering

I kept walking, finding myself facing two options: a steakhouse or a place called Uncle Julio’s. Considering I earlier had Texas BBQ for lunch, it seemed that I had to give a Tex-Mex restaurant a shot.

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