Dear You,
While I was in New York, you came to dinner. Everyone was there, all who know me in one way, the everyday. I was talking to one girl about you. I asked if she had met you. She said, yeah at a party at my house in Austin, when she first saw you, she thought, 'who is that?' But then she found out you had a girlfriend and someone in line (her words, and that's me). I almost tried to explain to her, no, I've know him much longer than that and that isn't like that. But isn't it? I said nothing about your wife.
Tonight, I also heard the douche I've been fucking talk about the sex tapes he made with some chick last week. Then the girls asked him all about his exploits and he was saying about how he gets calls all hours of the night from women for sex. He was more brazen about bragging since we've fucked, especially having me in earshot.
But, I am carefree, as I want to be.
Holding things close to my heart protect me in many ways, but hurt me in others.
Love,
Me
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