ODE TO AN ASSHOLE
Thank you. Seriously.
Thank you for taking the time to park yourself in my inbox a year ago. You weren’t the only one, but you were indeed the most refreshing. Presenting yourself to me gilded in witty one-liners and knee-slapping gifs. Thank you for convincing me with our first date. Whiskey-filled coffee cups and museums - do I really look that easily impressed? Obviously, because that date was followed by many more throughout our bout of bae-ness. There were the drunk brunches where you would fawn over the shape of my cupid’s bow or the shade of amber that my eyes were that day. There were the weekends away where you would put your cellphone on airplane mode for “extra privacy” - you were always so considerate.
Thank you for sending her and I the same gifts on Valentine’s Day. It took me a while to realize the kind deed, but I’m sure she loved the surprise delivery as much as I did. Thank you for eventually warning me that you weren’t fit to be loved. Your modest delivery wasn’t merely as effective as you intended it to be. I was sure that your said truths weren’t a match for my monster-sized heart. You were mine to keep. To conquer. To convince. Besides, how could I leave? I’d miss out on the way you would send me random photos you took while I wasn’t looking, or daily FaceTime calls that would last entirely too long, or simply, the I love you’s.
Thank you for turning the table on me just when I was getting ready to dance on it. For reminding me that I was once as naive as they come. Thank you for reminding me that I will never have a cold-heart or be a man-hating “bad bitch” who doesn’t need anybody.
I needed you.
I needed you to drag me through the floor one last time, just so that when I got up I would finally be exhausted from giving myself to people like you. I needed all of your caressing lies and polite omissions, just so that I could really feel the truth when it slapped me. I needed you to drop the ball on me, because I should’ve listened.
If I’ve finally learned one thing it’s that you should always listen when people tell you who they are. And not only did I have the privilege of hearing it, I also had the honor of experiencing everything first hand.
We don’t all ripen, bloom or mature the same. I needed you to crack open my cocoon and reveal the glittering resiliency I didn’t know I housed. As I flourish, and once and for all…thank you. For introducing me to all that I am worth by taking all of it for granted.
An ode to you, Asshole.
My sincerest best wishes - Mel.
Art by Cassia Beck.