A Letter to my Ex F**k Buddy

I’ve always felt that Valentine’s Day was such a special day because its a day where so many single people say “fuck it” and let their feelings be known. People stop caring about bullshit stuff like ‘leagues’ and ‘the Friendzone’ and find the courage to tell each other how they really feel about each other. Remember how exciting that was in elementary and middle school because there was always the exciting possibility that your crush could surprise you with candy or a *special* card and ask you to be their Valentine?

When you get to college, love isn’t always a priority, but getting laid definitely is. After hooking up with someone off and on for a year and a half until they abruptly leave had left me alone at night to reflect on whatever kind of connection we developed and all the things I never said out loud, even to myself. Even though it was never anywhere near a relationship, it was the longest time I’ve been intimate with someone and helped me grow and understand sex, love, and intimacy in all its forms.

Dear Ex Fuck Buddy,

I knew from the moment I saw you that I wanted you. It was a weird gravitational force, unexplainable and certainly not love at first sight or anything like that, but I knew you felt it too cause you approached me after that first class that we had together the first week of college. You were witty, well-educated, and well-traveled and even though I thought I was very much in love with my long-distance boyfriend at the time, I couldn’t fight the infatuation. I let you take me out to dinner as “friends” and it was delightfully awkward and innocent-that is until a couple nights later when we drank a little too much and banged while your roommate was “asleep” next to us (something I’m not proud of, but is sadly a norm for college students). I felt horrible for betraying my boyfriend’s trust and was a little mad at you for claiming you “didn’t know I was in a relationship” when I confronted you about it. My relationship ended because of you and I never knew how or why but after that you became closed off and only wanted to hang out in groups or sneak around late at night. I still find it funny how secretive you thought you were when in reality, nobody cared at all.

Once I broke up with my boyfriend, it became a routine thing. That nightly 12 o clock ‘Yo’ text that was the unspoken invite that I could never seem to turn down. We never talked much, but I was ok with it. You could be so cynical and rude around others, but I dealt with it because you were so passionate and gentle when we were alone. I knew we weren’t compatible and your fuckboy tendencies ensured there’s no way we could ever become anything real since so it was safe, comfortable, and somehow consistently great sex. I bet you didn’t know you were the first guy to ever make me orgasm.

Still, I knew that every time you made me come, more and more dopamine and oxytocin was being released- I had to literally fight the biochemical conditioning to not fall in love with you sometimes. You fulfilled all my basic needs for affection and intimacy and college was a little less lonely when I could fall asleep next to you every night (even if you’re the loudest fucking mouth-breather in existence).

Every once in a while, hormones would get the best of us thus starting a cycle of more and more eye contact during sex and late night discussions until the tension broke and the cursed ‘what are we?’ conversation would arise, leading to bickering and the eventual admission of our feelings for each other. I’ll admit I got greedy and wanted more because whenever you let your walls down, things were great. You always said you would take me on a date once in a while, but you never did and nothing ever changed.

I wasn’t ever too sad about it cause I still knew there was no way you were emotionally capable of being in a relationship yet and I liked the fact that I was always able to pursue other relationships. Whenever I started dating someone, the texts would stop and we’d go back to being friends, but I never worried about it not working out because I knew you would still be there.

You’re somehow the most sensitive, yet closed-off person I’ve ever met (Cancers, am I right?), but you were always there for me when I really needed it. You took care of me when I was sick and introduced me to Gossip Girl, you made sure I wasn’t alone on Valentine’s day or Thanksgiving when we spent the long weekend in your childhood home cooking food and watching a Simpsons marathon for hours. You somehow always knew when something was wrong and you’re one of the only people I’ve ever cried in front of. Whenever it felt like the world was ending, you always knew how to make me feel good.

I’m not sure if you’ll even read this. Maybe you’ll see me post about it, maybe one of my friends will figure out who you are and send it to you (lol sorry).  I just felt like I needed to reflect and honor whatever it is we shared. I still don’t understand why, but I’ve never been involved with anyone as long as I was with you. You were the only constantly good thing in my life for a long time and I want to thank you for always being there when I really needed someone.

I’m still getting used to you not being around and I’m not ashamed anymore to admit that I miss you and think of you often. On the surface, it may seem like we were nothing more than college fuck buddies, but whatever we had was something more, even if we so rarely admitted it. It’s weird moving on from something that never existed, but I hope you look back on the last year and a half as fondly as I do. Part of me hopes you miss me a little bit, too.

Happy Valentine’s Day



  1. Beautifully written. I felt like a voyeur invading your private emotional space but your vulnerability became strength. And damn, it made me envy the fuckboy but also sad that he probably doesn’t know what he could have had with you.


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