Archive for August, 2010

I loved you more than
I had loved any other
I doubt you did, me

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I have never been so sexually attracted to anyone in my life. For some reason, sleeping with you calmed down my intense thinking about you, and I don’t really try to contact you. We keep in touch with the usual level of sporadic chaos yet love. Having no expectations of you enables me to love you as a friend. I have no idea what you think about it, but if our paths keep crossing, I would love for you to be my occasional lover forever. I think I could smell your deliciousness coming from a mile away. You are the sexiest.


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When you hide your facebook wall from me it makes me feel two things.

1. you act like teenager, not an adult

2. you have a girlfriend and you think i can’t handle seeing her write on your wall.

I really don’t care if you have seven girlfriends. I will love you regardless.

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I met you salsa dancing two weeks ago-you were there alone like me. We had sex last night. It was steamy hot and my apartment was stuffy and I wanted to see you so bad. I was scared to see you combined with the desire. I knew how badly I wanted to kiss you and I knew if I kissed you I would want everything else too. Because of how big and alive and deep your eyes are when you look at me. I love the way you carry your 40 years old – athletic, active, energetic. I respect that you have three kids you spend lots of time with even though you are divorced from baby mama. You surmounted your angry divorce break up bullshit to have a sane relationship with her so now you can co-parent even though she cheated on you and then moved on to a new marriage with the other guy. I already told you I have been telling my friends how much I like your strange face with big eyes, hawk nose, wide mouth with fangy vampire teeth. I desire you more because you are horny and normal enough to desire me even though I’m taller and bigger than you. Your skin and sexy ugliness are yum. You are yum the way you are turned on by my armpit body odor and my hairiness and you tell funny stories. I told you already I love the way you drive just like it says in that Yaz song back in the ’80’s that I loved. We talked until 3am and then I couldn’t stand it anymore and had sex with you. I’m scared about how fast it was after knowing you but I wanted to so badly. I can’t wait to see you again even though I have job applications to write and sleep to get and laps to swim and catshit to clean up and asses to kiss at work. Kiss kiss kiss-I just want to be kissing you.

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It was supposed to be a relief that you got married. You are one of those people who just love me too hard. You are one of the reasons I got so cocky- one of the people who just kept loving me no matter what. Why isn’t that more attractive?

I don’t think your marriage stopped your fantasy of You and I. Wasn’t that supposed to stop it? I’m sorry that I kissed you. We were kids. I’m sorry that I flirted. You are just such an easy target. The way you breathe on my neck when you hug me and hold me for just a split second too long makes me nervous about the fact that if I came on to you, you would not stop me. I won’t ever do it. And not because I respect the sanctity of your marriage. But because I want you to stop looking at me like that. I want you to hold on to the love that you have and let go of me. You didn’t ever have me.

So it’s time to loosen your grip.

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when you kissed me i thought it was a joke. you told me i looked hot in that sarong. we had gone to the mall together that day. all of our other friends had left for college. you were the first person to finger me. you did it that first day and i told you no. that should have been my hint.

i still hate you.

parts of me still love parts of you though, and that is what makes it so fucked up. if i could just hate you it would probably be a lot easier.

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classic typewriter for zine making.

Dear Readers!
That’s you. This is not a letter to someone I once was in love with. Okay, maybe I was once in love with some of you. And probably still am in love with some of you. But this letter isn’t a letter to an ex. This is a letter asking for your feedback.

If you are a fan on facebook, you know that I’m seriously contemplating a zine of my favorite letters thusfar. But I would love your feedback on your favorites, so send me an email at lettersforloves@gmail.com, or simply comment on this post to let me know which letters you think I should include.

Diehard fans who give me feedback will get a copy in the mail, so act now! (You are counting on my follow through, and I’m counting on yours.)

With love and happy reading and writing!
Love Letters

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i was in love with you when i first laid eyes on you. if there was any skepticism in my 15 year old mind about love at first site, it faded immediately. i met you the summer before my junior year of high school. i asked you to my prom. you couldn’t come because you had plans that night (so then i asked #2). you said i should come to your prom. but you already had a date, so i went to your prom with X. i have never been so bold with a boy as i was with you. i didn’t care because i was so certain of my love for you. i kissed you in the basement of #6’s house. you were on top of me on the mattress on the floor by the door. we were wrestling and you had me pinned down. i reached up and kissed you and you told me “you need to go home now.” later you told me you liked me all along, but you couldn’t kiss me because X had a crush on me. it’s still hard to be rejected, no matter the reason. i had never felt such an intense connection to anyone in my life. anyone who has ever seen us together will comment on the palpable and massive energy between us.

you wrote me the best love letter i have ever gotten. i made you a mix tape. you misquoted james in the letter, asking me how i knew that “sometimes when i look deep into your eyes, i can see your soul.” it still pains me that i can’t find that letter. i am still in love with you, even though i don’t know you anymore.

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Dear Online Dater:
No, you cannot get a look at those cute little tits.
No, I will not fuck you while your wife lives abroad.
No, I won’t just give you my phone number and just see what happens.
No, you can’t have a photo of me with a little less clothes on.
No, I do not want to online chat with you having never exchanged a single email.

Have a little tact there buddy. It will take you far.

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You were the first person to ask me to marry you. We were 4 years old. I told you “I can’t marry you, we’re 4 years old!” I thought it would be fine if we stayed friends, though. I remember you had a room in your house that was on a basement level, but had lots of cool art project type stuff. It sort of felt like a preschool classroom. Did you mom make ceramic bowls or something? I think you had a tire swing, too.

I remember thinking you were cool, but not that cool. I knew there were other fish in the sea. I wanted to keep you around, but keep you at a distance in the romance department.

I moved away before first grade.

I went with someone else to your senior prom. I remembered your name, and asked someone to point you out to me. I asked you to dance. I reminded you that you asked me to marry you.

It was awkward, but we danced. It felt like you could have fallen in love with me someday, and I would have held you at arms length.

I wonder if I am a jerk, or if I was just an intuitive 4 year old.

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