I hope you'll have a blue, blue, blue Christmas.
This is my first Christmas in three years without you. Well, without you in my life. Last year I didn't want you there because you ruined it the year before, and I was planning to break up with you a couple weeks later anyway. But we were still together. Sometimes I forget that I was still your girlfriend only a year ago. Then I realize that in a few weeks (two and a half from today), I will have been single for a full year.
Sometimes, I wish I was still there. Sitting on your ugly 80's couch, holding hands and watching the History Channel, House, or NCIS. Smelling the Garnier Fructis spray in your hair, the warm smell of your shoulder as it supported my head. (I almost typed heart instead of head...) Now the scent of my hair mousse doesn't remind me of you, I can watch NCIS and House without thinking of you (until a few hours later), and I lean on a bunch of other people's shoulders for support, both with my head and my heart.
Sometimes, I forget your phone number. Then suddenly the mess of numbers clears up, and there it is. Even though I deleted it from my phone, I can still remember it. I was really happy the first time I couldn't do that, though. Hopefully that will keep happening.
This is the second letter I've written to you now...the other one is still hiding where I left it this summer, sloppy handwriting from a ballpoint pen on plain computer paper. Six pages, I think? This one's in typing (my favorite font, which you would probably be neutral about). I remember our shared hatred of Comic Sans, which apparently we share with a TON of people - including the new girl who I suspect is a little into you, but I'll never know if my hunch is true. Did you know her cousin is in the Honors Program at Creighton? So weird, how things like that happen.
Anyway...I saw Chris (the "dog," as you always called her - asshole) tonight. She was at Wendy's with a couple girls I didn't recognize, and she was holding a baby. Maybe it was hers? I haven't creeped enough to find out yet. But I thought you might think that was entertaining. Because you always were the type to make fun of people worse off than you, especially Chris. I felt kind of bad for her, even though she was kind of a crazy bitch. She was nice enough to me while I was with you.
You would think it was stupid, but I'm reading Pride and Prejudice and listening to Christmas music on the radio. The song about meeting an old lover in the grocery store just came on - apparently it's called Same Old Lang Syne. They're both making me think of you. I'm partly wishing that could be us one day...but in all honesty, I probably won't see you ever again. Blue Christmas makes me think of you too, because I really truly hope that's how you feel. It sounds terrible, but I want you to realize how much you lost when you let me walk out your door on January 7th.
I remember I was wearing my grey skinny jeans, forest green henley, and brown boots. We went to Applebee's (like always), and you were in a particularly silly mood. You spelled out "MOO" with the straw wrappers while I was in the bathroom. I was texting Corinne the entire night, saying I couldn't do it, and she kept telling me I had to. We went back to your house after renting The Hangover from Hastings. After watching it, we saw the end of an episode of House and I started crying. We talked for what seemed like hours, but it probably only took about one. You cried, and I remember you pushing my hand away because I was hanging on too long. When there was finally nothing left to say, I went home. Before I left, I kissed your cheek, and you kissed my forehead. I watched your face crumple as I walked out the door, and I don't remember the drive home. I cried for days after that.
So yeah. Nights like tonight, they make me miss being with you. Not you, necessarily, but being with you. So I guess they make me miss being with anyone, and you're the only one with whom I have any experience of that. So then it feels like I miss you. But maybe I just miss being wanted, maybe I feel guilty. I can't tell you any of this, because that would be like admitting defeat. I don't regret it, but I am sorry for hurting you. You'll never admit that I did, but I know it's true. I saw your face.
I don't think Angiee or Sherri would still love me so much if they didn't think I was good for you. But I wasn't good enough - I couldn't inspire you to come to God, and you took me away from him. Maybe someday you'll find a girl who can do that. I secretly hope you don't and that you pine for me until you die because I'm the one that got away. Because you let me walk out the door, and all the while I was hoping you'd run out and stop me before I drove away, or that you'd call and beg me to change my mind. You never did, though, so I'm left in the dark praying that's how you still feel, and hoping that you'll have a blue, blue, blue Christmas.
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