Dear Wendy...
I've loved you since the first time I saw you.
I'll never not love you.
That doesn't mean that sometimes I wouldn't like to drop you off a high bridge into a deep river.
I accept the sense and the correctness of the fact that we made far better friends than lovers, and neither of us was really happy living together, BUT...
When I'm the only one of the three guys who've impregnated you who's been there for the anti-natals, births, and since then, sending me a Fathers Day card from the kids would be quick and fairly cheap, and encouraging them now they are old enough to do that, Xmas, birthday, wouldn't be too hard, would it?
When I invite you in March to my wedding six months later because I want my kids and my friend to be there, I don't expect to get a phone call asking me to do something for you with a mention of the fact you've already booked a holiday for when the wedding is. And learning a fortnight after the wedding from the kids that they haven't been on holiday that year was a bit of a ballbuster.
You've known most of my secrets for years, you encouraged me after my first bisexual encounter when I didn't know if I'd liked it or not because it was so unexpected to try it again to gauge it properly, you shared your bisexuality with me before anyone else (even the people you were going to share it with).
I don't want to hate you, but you're making it really difficult to be your friend.
Love,
Matter
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Tue 9 Mar 2010, 19:40, Reply)