You should know all your mutual friends warned me off of you because they were around when your last relationship ended—badly. And most of it WAS your fault. And for a long time I listened to them—I know I said I didn't. When you would hold me in the night and say "I want you to be proud of me..." and I said I didn't listen to gossip... but I did. I really, really did. I believed every word they said. And it kept me from getting close to you, made me scared of committing to you in any way. I always kept you in the context of a guy I could never trust and I closed myself off to you for WAY too long. And I'm sorry—because only recently did I find out how much it was hurting you. How I wasn't just a conquest to you but a woman you were falling in love with. I didn't know. And I saw other people. I didn't take you seriously. I held you away from me. And yet, for some reason, you stayed.

When I had eye surgery, you clamped onto me like a barnacle for the two weeks of recovery. You asked me to be your girlfriend—you shouted it to everyone from the rooftop. Literally. And I realized that your shit with your ex was your shit with your ex. I'm not her. And you're not the guy you were with her. I felt like a damned fool.

I'm so sorry. I wish I had just wised up long ago. But I'm glad I eventually did. You treat me like I've always wanted to be treated. Not like a princess, but like a fellow soldier, in a trench. And when life throws a grenade our way, you grab my hand, nod and say "Let's do this shit." And we run together into the fray and blow shit up. That's all I ever wanted.

Thank you for not letting go. Thank you for being so good to me. I think I love you too. And on Christmas Day, when we're flying to Indianapolis, I'll tell you. And I won't leave your side again. —Eats Crayons