Tom you dirty bastard

I'll admit it. I talk a big talk, but I'm really very bad in terms of confrontations. I still relive pieces of my past in my head. I figure this is a good place to say what I really wanted to say back then.

So, here goes.

Tom.

It's just a freaking football game, dude.

So, this year, you could send me the consolation card. The birds spanked the 'boys. Normally, I like birds. Not in the football sense, though. But I'd like to think if someone sent me a condolence about this game, I'd laugh.

I'm sorry that I didn't take you seriously. I'm sorry that I wasn't honest - I did have a crush on you, but that crush grew into friendship. Strong friendship. I saw how you were with your friends, and I wanted a piece of that. You're a good guy - smart and talented. But you weren't interested in me that way.

Someone else was, though. And he asked me out. And, lo and behold, I grew to really like him. I grew to love him.

Your "replacement"? No. Never. I have with him what I never had with you. Mutual respect and friendship and attraction and love. Romantic love as well as friendship love.

He never "dog-in-the-manger"-d me. He's the real deal. He's a better match for me than you ever would have been.

We're still happily married. We have two beautiful kids now. And we're still best friends.

I hope you're happy in your ivory tower. I really do. But I wish to god I'd had the balls back then to smack you around some. Because I thought we were friends. And I really would have liked to stay that way.