Yes, it's me, Samantha, or as you called me, "Kitten". I'm surprised you can recollect. As far as I can tell, the ten and a half months of relationship we shared was a joke to you, a mere flirtation with mocked-up adultery, slightly left of that bedamned roleplaying you adore so much. Bitter? Me? Oh, no. Never. Actually, I've so much to live for these days that you don't matter anymore - but the need to get this out, to scream it aloud to anyone who cares to listen, overrides the voice of reason. So I'm yelling, baby, and I don't care if the neighbours hear me or not.

I didn't know how to open this diatribe of unforgiveness. "Dear" - much too twee for my liking, and to attach your name - one I speak ever-rarely these days - would be more laughable than our coupleness ever was. So if I need to refer to you by name, allow me to use the pseudonym I've come to use whenever this subject arises. So - hey, Jerkboy, what's up?

Oh, I'm sorry. You look hurt. Let me explain. Jerk - you are one. Boy - the last time I checked, men in general actually do pertain to certain levels of maturity, intellect, and responsibility - a category of the male gender that I just can't bear to place you in. A further definition; jerk - you jerked me around somewhat. Boy - boy, was I a blind, dumbass schmuck to stay with you.

I stuck by you as a friend and partner from the time you said "I love you" to the time I got fed up and said "Goodbye". And I feel so goddamned stupid. When I met you, you were with "Her". You confided how about how you felt about that relationship to me. I consoled, I understood, I advised, I soothed, and I was patient. You said, "It will be over in a month, and then we will be together totally." I believed you.

You lied.

Four months later, I dared ask again. Yes. You were still with Her. But I thought it must be waning - you were online more than ever, and we emailed almost constantly. You assured me that She meant absolutely nothing to you anymore, that she was a mere hindrance - that there was nothing left to your charade of a relationship with Her. But the regularity of your online presence petered out to a month of nothingness, where you were spared at the eleventh hour by an apologetic email which stupid, desperate me lapped up like a dehydrated dog licking a puddle dry. I trusted you. You understood from the word go - or so I thought - that a relationship sustained on the Internet was based on personality, intellect, and trust. How loyal I was to you - not once was I tempted, and when I did long for touch - just a hug or to hold hands, something sweet and simple, nothing more - I just thought of you, and wrote a letter. Letters that accumulated and were never answered. Foolish, so foolish.

How much time that I didn't have, did I spend in a faithful devotion to you? Believing you to be worth the effort I put in, the patience stretched to the limit when you never showed up online time and again. Feeling bad for annoying your friends, brother, and mother to check up on you, because I was so concerned for your wellbeing... feeling resent dissolve into mindless happiness when you finally put in an appearance, only to feel disappointed when this was the only snippet of togetherness for a week or so. How much money that I didn't have, did I spend on calling you? Voice to voice, momentarily taking away the oceans worth of space between us... and you only ever called me once. Why did I never see how one-sided our relationship had become?

I took the absences, I took the infrequency of (badly written) email, I took your depression and illnesses and other things, so many excuses - how many were lies?

You know, Jerkboy, I believed you (hey! It's that trust and faith thing coming in again, buddy!) when you said of Her - "I can't even stand to be physically close to her." Liar. You lousy, goddamned liar.

When I finally found out - do you know how utterly stupid I felt? How goddamned naïve and pathetic? I should have seen it! I should have known...and yet denial got in the way. Others have defended you, claiming that you truly loved me, and that She just knew how to manipulate you. She meant nothing. She was just a bitch who refused to be broken up with.

But if you loved me so much, and She meant nothing to you, then why were you fucking Her almost the entire time we were together?

Maybe there's something I'm not getting here. Some unforseen instance I'm not giving you the opportunity to relate. But if and when you get around to explaining, don't even think about using the expressions "flesh and blood" or, "I'm just a man." The voice of retrospect and coldhearted logic tells me that if a man can't stop dipping his quill into one woman's inkwell that he shouldn't allow another woman to enslave her heart to his whimsy.

Anyway, I don't care for excuses, and I don't have the time of day for you either. I'm with someone else now - I'm sure, since you haven't shown your cowardly self online for several weeks, that you've been told - and I'm happier than you'll ever be. So fucking there.

Regards,