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Dear other woman,

You are the woman I think will be my ex-boyfriend’s new girl. We’ve been on and off, so I can’t even really say he is my ex-boyfriend. All I know for sure is that he met you and had the confidence or ability to tell me he was going to see what could be with you—instead of me.

I’m a torrent of emotions. I’m glad he finally told me that his lack of commitment wasn’t because he had intimacy issues. Or that he was intimidated by me. Or that our timing was just bad. I’m glad I got real closure.

The intellectual part of me is telling me that everything happens for a reason and to trust the journey. But the little girl inside me wants to know why he picked you—and not me. And I’m beating myself up for being a fool who thought he did care about me. When right now, I’m pretty sure he didn’t. Or at least not in a way that was equitable for how I felt about him.

I’m sure you are an amazing person who has no clue I’ve googled your name and tried to find every detail that made him captivated enough to focus his attention on you, and not me. I know your age, where you’ve lived, and where you went to college. And I’ve wasted way too much energy wishing whatever you had, I had.

Life is funny. Change happens. And when we look back, every good thing that happened, happened because something changed. But in the moment, we dig our nails and try to stop what is coming. The universe has a way of not letting us settle. Even when we want to.

I want to be the person who wants what is best for the good of all. And intellectually, I know we can’t lose what isn’t ours. But my ego wants you to not want him, and for him to realise what he missed with me.

I know that relationships shouldn’t be one-sided, and that my trying to make it work so hard was only a sign of deeper issues I needed to deal with.

I get that I have no clue what your story is, and that if I met you at a bar, sitting on adjacent stools, there is probably a high likelihood we would actually like each other a lot.

I hate that women are pitted against each other. That we compare ourselves to each other. And we compete against each other. That we think the man is the prize. I hate that even when we are nice to each other, we aren’t.

I’m ready to put down the armor. I’m ready to stop competing. I’m ready to stop thinking that my worth comes from someone picking me. I want us all to win. I want us to be okay with or without a partner. I want us all to trust life.

If you two are supposed to be together, I hope you fulfill your soul contracts for each other. And I hope if our roles are ever reversed, and you are googling some other woman because she is competing for someone’s affection that you hoped to have, that there is a part of you that knows you are all that, and I was googling you, wishing I had whatever you had.

Maybe we are all that. And we just don’t know.

Love,

Me