To a lost regular

 You were so sweet to me. You were one of the people that really kept me holding it together when the timewasters and the industry noise started to get me down for a while. You gave me more than I asked, you were kind and attentive. You made me feel like I was the only woman in the world you wanted to listen to. 

We’d talk a lot, we’d fuck and you pleased me in the most unselfish of ways. You gifted me, and I never knew why or even quite how to thank you. You gave me things more thoughtful than any man has, without barely knowing me at all.

Maybe the right words weren’t said, or at the right time. Maybe you’d seen enough of me, explored me beyond discovery. Maybe I should have given you more extra time, or chased you more often. Because you left.

I see you floating around online. I watch you chasing other beauties around like butterflies. I don’t feel jealousy, I don’t really know how, but I feel a disappointment, in myself. 

I wonder if I didn’t repay you enough for your kindness. I wonder what it is that you expected when you showered me with your adoration and presents. Did I open up a little too much? Did my flaws that you said you like blemish your care for me? Was this all supposed to go somewhere? Was I supposed to love you? Did you care too much and me too little? Or the reverse? Does my demeanour mean I play things too cool? 

Was I a fleeting fantasy? Now fulfilled and passed. Did you prefer the idea of me over the real thing?

I miss you, I admit. The short-lived, perhaps meaningless but extraordinary way you made me feel. I miss your adoration, your custom, and your own little quirks. I miss adding meaning to a life you said you disliked. I miss being the centre of your attention, a weakness for me I admit. My ego is bruised and feels longing. 

I do hope you’re well and healthy and happy. I hope I helped you gain the confidence you said you lacked, enough to explore further afield. Maybe you found love, maybe you didn’t,  but I hope all the same your journey was helped and not hindered by being in my world a little while. I hope spoiling me made you feel as good as it felt for me. I hope the glint in my eye at least plays in your memory from time to time. Along with other things.

I struggle with words, at times. You know, you’ve seen me stutter and fluster, and you didn’t make me feel bad for it. I have oddities and quirks and I fundamentally fuck things up sometimes. I wish I could filter it better to say the right kind of Thankyou’s, maybe then you’d still be in my bed, the new one that you helped me buy. 

I appreciated you. I appreciate everything you’ve done and it was more than enough. I guess I just wonder why, in the end, I wasn’t. 

**disclaimer. I write based on a collection of true events or experiences over time but not usually one specific event or individual.

PETRA FOX

Twitter: @foxandthefeline

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Web: petrafox.com.au