Damn. I don’t know if I’ve ever had to write a person I’ve only slept with 3 times the “letter you never actually send them, because your soul just needs its own closure”. This is shit that should be reserved for the lovers, the soul ties.

And it’s funny because wasn’t that what this felt like? Or do I just have attachment issues? Lmao…

Remember when I got attached and felt rejected by my last two situationships before this? And I mean Good God, this isn’t even a situationship. We slept together three times, hung out five or six times, then you left town. But you come back in a month for only 2 weeks. What are my expectations here? Why is this affecting me so much?

Sapiosexual – interested in you for your mind and your words and your voice and your questions and the way you finger me with both hands while also pushing down on my bladder and angled at just the right way so we can see the animalistic carnal need fire desire in each other’s eyes and I can hold onto your hardness while my other hand knuckles tears the sheets off the bed while I’m begging for breath wondering how the fuck you can do this to me, how can you feel so good, how can I feel so good?

And yet, the voice in the back of my head is like “not sure if he was actually interested, or if you just gave him the opportunity for a hot piece of ass.” Shucks, babe, that’s not fun to feel.

And yeah, remember when you gave me the key to making the first move - but it felt manipulative? Remember how you blew me off the next day after we had sex for the first time? Remember how when you left town, you were quiet/silent/ghost/busy/crossing continents for maybe just a bit too long, and then I got the text that you missed me? Remember when I slid into your DMs first and when I gave you my number first?

Well, I remember that I wasn’t completely sure I wanted to have sex, but I did it anyway. I remember when I had to put two and two together, when I realized that American Bros came to Brazil. I remember that you enable your bestie, who’s a privileged little shit who makes off-color remarks about women, and to whom I have to defend feminism. I remember when you self-deprecated and downplayed yourself and talked about how you and your therapist decided you weren’t ready for a relationship, which felt like another backhanded pick-up line for “lady I just fucked, can you fix me?”. I remember when I fought off a UTI afterward -  a clear sign that my body was not supportive of this experience. I remember when this bitch ass didn’t like my hot fucking thirst trap Instagram post.

Remember when I told myself I was being overly sensitive, overly critical, that it was my own attachment issues and my own setbacks with healing that made me feel this way? Bitch no!

LOOK AT THE DATA!

Remember when I told you that you knew better????

Guy I Slept With After I Vowed To Myself I Was Celibate, you know better. You know to ask a girl if she wants to have sex – even if it’s the heat of the moment and she’s naked in your shower. You know to text a girl after you’ve had sex with her, and at the bare freaking minimum, kindly and clearly communicate your feelings and your intentions. You know better than to respond enthusiastically to a girl you’re not actually interested in - that’s called manipulation. You know better than to give a goddess the classic ol’ hot-cold move. Especially after a woman has shared her body, her soul, her literal human life portal with you.  Especially after you spent hours and hours talking about the mysteries of the universe and the spaghetti strings of your soul and your brain and each agreed that this depth, this openness, these psychological tied together worm cans do not come around often.

Big Oops, Sis.

I also remember when I was too busy, too focused on my essence, had too many other priorities than being vulnerable to men and the chance of being confused / hurt  / rejected / manipulated. I remember when I had so much going for me that I didn’t have time or space for someone’s unhealed son to enter my aura and pop my perfect little sphere of goddess celibacy. I remember time and time again that I don’t do casual. That I’m a wifey lover girl lemme cook for you and support you and make quality time for you. I remember when I told myself I was protecting my peace, and I didn’t want a man to infiltrate that. So, why did I let this happen?

Wait, back up, calm down, straighten that crown - why am I blaming myself? I’m so programmed to blame myself, to take accountability for the male behavior I’ve experienced. Damn!!! We let men off the hook so easily. We blame ourselves for shit that we never did, never caused, never deserved. We can learn how to avoid these situations and identify the warning signs, but it doesn’t matter if most men in the world are stuck in the same patterns, same behaviors, as the ones we’re trying to outgrow. It’s a really upsetting feeling. I can face my demons about what’s holding me back regarding a partner. That shit doesn’t matter if there aren’t any healed men in this world. Queen, we can heal all we want. But the “future husband” sure as hell isn’t!!!

Stay Celibate 😊

Sincerely,

Big Oops Sis

PS – I don’t want celibacy to be the answer. I want better men to exist bountifully, radiantly. I want the back-breaking, earth-shattering, poetry-moaning, soul-exploding sapiosexual fantasies to take a permanent vacation from the spirit world and join our earthly realm. I know I am capable of manifesting these kings into my life. I am just simply not sure they truly exist. So for now, babe, I’m actually staying celibate.

xx

PPS - It’s funny reading this back, because this wasn’t a letter to him at all. It was a letter to myself. From Big Oops, To Big Oops, Love You Sis! We got this, honey, I promise.