Having met you was a bad luck. Knowing you was a mistake.
Having been with you was an equal match to insanity...even for a while.
Yes, they all say I'd made that mistake when I was with you. They said I was vulnerable after my last heartbreak, that I couldn't even think clearly. Hmm, what should I call you, then? A prick? A predator to all women?
A thrill-seeker? Ah, how lucky you were, a man who found me irresistible. A man who had had the nerve to kiss me that night, even on a first date.
A man who had brought me to his bedroom after dinner, right there and then. The one who had given me a daft idea called 'role-playing':
"We could be anybody we want to be for tonight."
I smiled. Yeah, so I decided to play along with you that night. We could be two lonely souls looking for a temporary 'release'. To hell with morals! I'm sick of being trapped by it, while you men can be free doing "whatever" you like and with "whomever" you like.
Perhaps to you it was just the same. It was just a boredom killer for a free-spirited adventurer.
Then, what about me?
Ah, I don't know. I don't care anymore. All I know then was just how typical you were. I'm sure there are a lot of men like you out there. Yeah, even when they'd give me the same old, cheesy argument, only so that I wouldn't be too bitter and look sourly at love and the rest of the world with:
"Not all men..."