Sorry…

The words seemed to jump out of the screen.  It was a short message, yet I had a hard time getting the essence of it.  I just kept being stuck on “Sorry”.

Sorry for what?

The apology came a little too late for me.  It should have come before you accepted the invitation to come to my place.  “I had a nice time, but I’m going to head home. Sorry”.  This seemed like a more reasonable excuse.  Or once you leaned in, kissed me and I kissed you back.  Maybe you could have gently pushed me back and say “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.  I should leave”.  There was still time as we were making our way to my bedroom. “This is going too fast.  We should put the brakes here.  Sorry”.

But you didn’t apologize then.

You didn’t apologize when you were leaving and sweetly kissed me goodbye with the promise of seeing each other again. You didn’t apologize as I walked you to the elevator and you gave me a lingering hug.  You should have apologized and confessed to lying when you said that you had a nice time with me and found me charming.

Or maybe your apology could have come the next day.  “I don’t usually sleep with women on the first date. I had no self-control.  This has nothing to do with you. Sorry”.  Instead, your words were promising.  “We should do this again”, you texted.  Maybe, when I replied “Looking forward to seeing you”, you could have apologized then and said you made a mistake.

Instead, your texts get colder.  You weren’t as funny as usual.  When I inquired about that situation you were going through, you answered briefly, instead of apologizing and say that your mind was preoccupied and maybe now wasn’t a good time for you to start seeing someone.  Sorry.

Then you just went on to ignore my texts.  Only I’m not a woman who runs after a man who doesn’t want her.  So, I moved on.  I stopped smiling thinking of the good times we could have had.  I no longer longed to kiss you again.  Nor did I feel the memory of your nails running down my sweaty back and scratching my skin in the heat of our lovemaking (or should I stop being naive and call it fucking…sorry). I had even stopped looking at the naughty pictures you had sent me.

And then, a couple of weeks later, you texted me.  I naively expected an explanation for your brief and fading passing in my life.  I could have understood.  You were going through a lot.  You had told me. Instead, you made it about me.  “Looks like I turned into one of those guys you had told me about. Sorry”.  That was your way of apologizing.  I had once allowed myself to get vulnerable with you and confessed that every time a guy ghosted me, a part of my soul shined a little less brightly.

You took something that I had said to you in confidence and turned it into a half-ass apology.  Sorry but that’s not how self-proclaimed respectful and sexually open-minded men behave.

I didn’t understand your apology, or I should say the timing of it.  At this point it was unnecessary.  I think we both understood from your silence that to you, I had just been another body to fuck. I felt it was arrogant for you to think you needed to state something to me that was obvious. But I guess you couldn’t live with being the bad guy in this story…sorry!

I should have felt sorry.

And I did for a while.  Until I saw your apology.  I got angry.  You see, unlike you, I can own up to who I am.  I don’t need to apologize for what I do because I always come to men from a place of total honesty and respect.  I’m fully transparent when it comes to my sexuality and what I’m looking for.

I don’t feel the need to lie to get what I want.

Your apology feels like I should be sorry for who I am.  But the truth is: I feel sorry for you.

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