I'm not sure who you thought I was. Or why you thought I'd be interested in having an affair with you. Or why you thought you could touch me without permission.
You are married. Doesn't that mean anything at all to you?
I guess it doesn't since once you were done tormenting me, you had to pick another target.
I can't believe I let myself stay silent for more than 10 years about what was going on. I can't believe that I couldn't be more strong with you. Couldn't tell you to leave me alone. Couldn't make a scene. Couldn't tell your wife. I ask myself a million times why.
Who was I trying to protect. You? No way. Me? Maybe. Your wife? That's what I tell myself. But why was I trying to protect her. There are so many things I wish I had been strong enough to do all along.
I kept this a secret for so long, and all it did was tear me up inside. It's not a secret anymore. Everyone who cares about me knows what happened. Paul knows, my brother and sister, my friends. Everyone but your wife. And she knows enough that if she ever saw my web site, or this letter, she would know who I was talking about.
I'm not keeping anyone's secret any more.
If she ever asked me, I would tell her.
You made me feel confused and dirty. I never wanted your advances, never asked for your touch. One time I entertained the possiblity of giving in to you, but not for any reason except I was tired of fighting. I'm glad I never let you touch me the way you wanted to.
No more secrets. No more lies. No more of anything. You will never touch me again, because if you do you'll have 10 years of bottled up anger to deal with. Not to mention 10 years of confessions that would come pouring out to whoever was there to hear.
I am free of you.