You were so strong.

I remember. I remember your large hands, the warmth that radiated off you. I remember how perfectly your muscles laid, how comfortable you were in your own skin. Master of your body.

Every step you took was powerful. Each thrust into me was perfect.

You used me.

Just like I asked you to.

You made other lovers pale in comparison.

Your complete lack of care, lack of concern, for my well-being was easily understood. I knew how you viewed me: a set of warm, willing, and enthusiastic holes.

It's amusing how most men can't get past their sexual-social upbringing.

But I did not ask you for friendship or respect. I never went to you for validation.

You showed me how I could be. Without even knowing, you showed me how to take care of my body. Watching you care for yourself was like watching a master sculptor at work. You showed me strength, showed me confidence and the utmost authority that could be had in movement.

And even though I'm just a footnote in your mind, I continue to silently thank you.

You gave me something to strive for. You showed me how I could start down the path of another strength, how good I could be. You, unknowingly, gave me a goal.

So thank you. You will never read this, but thank you. Thank you for caring so little. Thank you for showing me a strength I could follow.