Let's rewind back twelve years when we just kids in our sophomore year of high school. You had a crush on the lovely Jessica in our Greek Mythology class. She liked you back, I mean. Duh. You were cute and cool, chill and funny, so easy going and very artistic. I'm not shy about admitting that I had feelings for you way back then. But, I wasn't the pretty girl. I was the weird chick that just happened to get along with everyone. I was in the top ten heaviest girls in school even though I really haven't changed much since. We were tight, good friends, had hung out several times. I finally admitted to you that I wanted you. Your friends opinions didn't really matter to you, but I knew they would make fun fun of you. So I left you alone. We drifted apart junior year and then I met my children's father half way through senior year. Flash forward two years, I realized I had fallen for an alcoholic addict with narcissistic tendencies and boom. There you were again, popping up in my messages wanting to hook up. I almost did, one time but I chickened out. Flash forward another few years and you found an extremely hot chick and that was that. I knew you'd always be just a 'what if'. Another few years go by, I pop out my first kid. Then shit hits the fan with BD and we hit the rocks last summer. I look you up to find that you are indeed still with hot chick. Whatever, I moved on to make some fond memories and some shameful regrets. I very stupidly took back the BD and became pregnant again after only a month of trying again. We're here now, on the verge of giving up again and who pops back up? The One That Got Away. We've been dancing in and out of the outlines of each other's lives for years never really getting close enough to touch yet, when I saw your picture, I flushed. You are one of three people who has ever made me blush so hard. I thought of our old times and even in my postpartum hormonal halt, I'm wet. It's not right how much you affect my body. I shouldn't still want you. But even right this second, I wonder what it would be like to hear your infectious laugh again, to gaze into your ocean blue eyes, to watch you sketch a sick toon, and of course I imagine feeling your warm embrace that I haven't had in nearly twelve years. Is it so sad that I can almost remember how good you always smelled? I feel so wrong sitting here typing this out knowing the father of my children is only a room away. Yet, that somehow turns me on, too. I fucked six ways to Sunday now, all because you requested my friendship on social media. I am so weak.