I played a player just to show him how it feels. He was a true fuckboy, making his way through life from bed to bed, breaking hearts and leaving pieces of broken women wherever he went. I’m not proud to say that I was one of those women. He played me big time. I fell in love, not knowing who he was, not knowing what he’s capable of. I fell in love hard and ended up being played even harder.

But you know what the sad part is? I let him play me more times than I can count. I believed he would come back to me. I waited for him while he was fucking around other women. He even called me once to tell me what he’s done (and she was still in bed with him). And I was still in love. I was still waiting. He had this ugly habit of reaching out to me every once in awhile. Just when I thought I was over him, he came back only to remind me I’m not. Just when I had my life figured out, he came back to mess it up again.

I played a player just to show him how it’s done. After four years of playing with my heart and my emotions, it was my turn to play with his. Since he refused to give me closure, keeping me as a safety net, it was time I give myself one. I wish I could tell you I did it gracefully, I wish I could tell you that it didn’t hurt. It felt great, yes, but it still hurt. But I have to admit that there was a certain amount of satisfaction when I received his ‘broken’ texts only to ignore them.

He reached out to me once more, talking about how much he missed me, how much he loved me. He was talking about staying this time, about figuring things out. He was talking about how amazing I was and he was actually listening to me while I talked about my life. It was really different this time. He was different. Or so I thought. He was talking about switching jobs, moving closer to me. Talking about holidays and travelling together. Talking about ‘us’.

I wish I could tell you I called bullshit on him. I wish I had been strong enough not to believe him, but he had this power over me. I couldn’t resist him. I couldn’t keep my mind clear, because he was so damn good at manipulating me. Well, until I saw a bruise on his neck. “It’s nothing, this crazy chick hit me up at the bar. Honey, you know I’m here now for you.” Yes, you’re here now, but where have you been for the last four years? Where were you when I got fired, where were you when I was broken? Where were you when I was waiting for you?

I played a player. I ghosted him like he ghosted me. I promised him my heart, my love like he did to me. I kissed him with passion, like he used to kiss me. But I played a player. I showed him what it’s like to want something you can’t have. I showed him what it’s like to be lied to directly in your face. I finally showed him that what goes around comes around. For all the times he left me, for all the times he lied to me, for all the times he got my hopes up only to let them fall down and crash in million pieces—I played a player, just to show him how it’s done.