I taught you how to dress in the style you seek. I taught you which neck and sleeve lines look good with the way you do your hair. I demonstrated how some colours suit your skin and hair colour, and how some don’t. In the minefield you found jeans to be, I taught you which of the six cuts suit you most and what shade of blue and black denim are flattering on you. She’ll fancy you at first glance. She’ll tell her friends how well you dress and she’ll find you sexy for it. She doesn’t know that it was me who made you look like this.
I hope you realise that what you thought was me nagging for a reply, was actually a cry for you to show your affection. She’ll be glad I sent incessant messages; it means she won’t have to.
No woman would enjoy you doing that. Yes, I hurt your feelings when I told you to stop. I felt like a bitch and you felt embarrassed. But after a frank conversation we moved forward. It’s a shame that the sex ended alongside the relationship. I envy her.
Your hands on her body the way they were on mine. Your lips trace her clavicle and caress her neck. Your whispers in her ear – do you tell her the same things you told me?
I hope that when you and her go on dates, it isn’t her trying to pin you down for an evening; convincing you to go to a restaurant rather than another night at home. (I taught you how to cook, but you always preferred for me to cook – was that you being sexist, lazy, or was that a compliment? Sometimes I wasn’t sure. When you stay at home and order a take-away do you both pay? Or is it down to her?
Sorry…I couldn’t change that).
Towards the end, you could keep your phone in your pocket for the duration of dinner. It was rare, but it was possible. Does she realise how many painfully silent dinners we had? And how hard I worked to maintain a conversation when all your thoughts were bent towards social media? I hope you can respond to what she has to say and maintain a topic of interest..! (I taught him that how many likes your profile picture has received is not an interesting topic of conversation. Nor is watching a video of someone face-planting after jumping off the staircase. You’re welcome).
For all his wonderful attributes, I wasn’t able to fix (what I perceived to be) his biggest flaw: his propensity for blame. He had decided from a very young age that the world was against him. I hoped that my love, with all its encouragement, emotional and financial support would have convinced him that his path is not set in stone, that his hostility towards society was unfounded. I hope I scuffed his armour a little. Maybe she will scuff it some more.