Bebo. That’s how we met. God, remember Bebo? Have to admit, I kind of miss it.
We chatted on there, and you convinced me to enter a modelling competition. I was naíve enough to think that I would be any good. Who was I kidding? I was short, curvy and had bad skin. But you thought I would have no problem winning.
I called you ‘Sushi’. I still don’t know if you liked it or not. I love sushi.
You invited me out to things - drinks, balls, dancing. You made me feel wanted for the first time in a long, long while. I have to admit, that’s all it really was for me. Being wanted. I knew you liked me, I knew you wanted me. And I let you think I wanted you too. I didn’t. I wanted the attention, that feeling of being wanted. You kissed me, I kissed you back. We kissed a lot. It was pretty good, actually.
You took me to a hotel, remember? And we fucked. God, that was damn good. You told me you loved me, I told you the same. I never meant it though. I never meant it for anyone then. I just liked being loved.
The only problem was I still had a man, one who didn’t make me feel the way you did. But I was too much of a coward to actually break it off with him. So I lied to you, told you I had. I led you on. And on, and on. He found out. He called you and threatened you down the phone. You never spoke to me again.
I never said sorry. I never told you how much I really enjoyed the way you fucked me that one time. Have to admit, I kind of miss you too.