A Letter I Wrote to the Playboy

This letter was written nine months ago during a very raw season of my life. I’m sharing it now because it’s a part of my healing, my growth, and the work I do today. What you’re about to read is the voice of the woman I was then — not the woman I am now.

To the men who offered me a casual fling…

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what about me told you that was enough for me?

What made you think I would take scraps

and be grateful just to feel wanted, desired, and special?

What pain did you see in me that made you believe

I’d settle for the bare minimum?

Seven years ago, when I first walked into the dating world after my divorce,

I was shattered, broken, and lost.

I went online searching for you—

one after another—

while you had already been there long before me,

certain of your games and your false pursuits.

Why did my stories, my softness, my pain

make you assume I was a place you could land temporarily,

with nothing real to give?

Over time, body after body,

you taught me what I meant to you—

a pretty face, a body to taste,

yet no more meaningful than the next best thing.

So I toughened.

Teflon, it seemed.

The pain, the torment—

I silently screamed.

Intoxication became the key.

I thought it made me wild and free.

All it really did was black me out,

leave me emotionless,

wandering with self-doubt.

Maybe I was the fool… or maybe I just wanted to believe you.

Every time you looked me in the eye,

sent me an inconsistent text,

handed me crumbs,

pulled me off that bench…

my adrenaline rushed,

and for a moment, everything inside me ignited.

Then the magic trick—

you ghosted me like Casper.

Gone in a blink,

leaving confusion, questions, and disaster

And still, I wanted you to want me.

I could only take it for so long

before something in me flipped—

I became the hunter,

because the victim in me had enough.

I felt rage rise in me, and I came undone—

the things you did, the advantage you took,

the nights I spent curled in anxiety…

One by one,

I told myself I’d teach you a lesson.

How foolish of me—

bringing my own soul to its knees.

I’ll never let men like you in again,

to poke and play,

to heighten your day

at the cost of my own heart.

Today is the day I move on

and leave that toxic song behind.

My heart still grieves

for the woman who only wanted to be loved,

held, accepted, embraced—

and instead was released

into a virtual world of wolves and thieves.

But now, I am different.

She is my past,

and I stand tall with boundaries and intuition

that rise above everything—

never returning to what once broke me.

Healing is still underway,

teaching me how to become

everything God meant for me.

And now, if you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt this way too… this part is for you.

Here’s what I know now:

Boys don’t heal you.

Especially when you’re coming out of heartbreak, trauma, or divorce—

when your nervous system is raw

and your heart isn’t steady enough to discern what’s good for you.

In those seasons, boys don’t soothe you…

they distract you, confuse you, and delay the woman you’re trying to become.

But here’s the truth I want you to hold on to—

when you start pouring love, work, and patience into yourself,

you naturally attract a safer, deeper, more aligned kind of love.

A love that supports your healing,

matches your growth,

and honors the woman you’re becoming.

And often, that love will show up through others before it ever comes through a future partner.

Be patient with yourself.

Your healing is doing more than you realize.

And trust me—

the boys aren’t going anywhere…

but neither is the man who’s capable of loving you with presence, depth, and intention.

Note to the Men Who Might Read This

If you’re a man reading this, I hope you hear this gently but clearly:

Some women enter your life during the weakest chapters of their story — exhausted from heartbreak, divorce, trauma, or years of being unseen. And in those moments, you hold more influence than you realize.

If you know she’s fragile, hurting, or rebuilding, then honor that.

Don’t take advantage of her loneliness.

Don’t use her softness as a place to land while you wait for the one.

Be aware enough, mature enough, and human enough to understand the weight of your presence in a vulnerable woman’s life.

You don’t have to love her — but you do have a responsibility not to deepen a wound you didn’t create.