Archive for February, 2012

Do you evaluate all almost-lovers so clinically?
Like applicants to some elite institution?
Yours is the hardest and the Harvard of hearts.

It’s a case by case basis, you said,
and you regret to inform me
that I’ve been denied admission.

And it’s not because
of a large applicant pool
or cutthroat competition
or even budget cuts.

You kindly spared me the courtesy
of any consolation.

It’s a case by case basis, you said,
and you’re just
too ambivalent
about me.

A tragedy, maybe.

Because in your case
by case,
day by day,
hour by hour,
minute by minute,
I might have loved you.

But no more.

Because in your case
by case,
day by day,
hour by hour,
minute by minute,
I have better things to do.

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I hate being called “babe.” Except when you drunkenly did it. Then I kind of loved it.

You can get away with that sort of thing because I know you actually respect me.

And because it makes me laugh because it doesn’t suit you to talk to women that way.

We both know I’m not your babe. But in fleeting moments, perhaps.

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I saw you at the ice cream shop before I met you. You had your orange hat on. I elbowed my friend and we whispered about you.
When we actually met, talking to you was so easy.
You had a black raspberry milkshake. We laid in the grass.
You later claimed you knew I liked you because I was showing you my cleavage, but I don’t think I have the required equipment for that assertion.
I loved that you were confident yet also said you were too shy to kiss me.
I went home and told my roommates that I loved you. And that I was pretty proud of myself for not sleeping with you on a first date.
I didn’t need to date you for months to know that you were perfect. I love laughing with you and talking with you and arguing with you.
Even though it drives me nuts, your very logical and pragmatic brain is probably a perfect balance for my less than logical methods.
I love that you are energetic and open to anything. I appreciate you in ways you probably don’t even know.
No one has ever been so willing to compromise and work things out. Ever. In my entire life. About anything.
Thanks for holding my hand and making dinner with me.
Can we keep doing that?

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this song is simply breaking my heart today.

unrelated to love letters perhaps, but it evokes every emotion ever.

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You hated me for a while. I think because I was friends with a friend of a girl that somehow broke your heart?
You were so emo and fucked up. I didn’t understand that you hated me for a while a different time because you actually loved me.
You had a bowl haircut.
You pulled a knife on my sister.
You told me you liked that dress I had on.
I was so confused.
You dated my friend but still wanted me to not date your friend.
You had some sort of convoluted emotions about me well after we stopped speaking.
You slept with my best friend. More than once.
I don’t know where you live or what is happening in your life, but I hope you went to therapy.
I used to have a nickname for you.
Now I can’t even imagine talking to you.
Let alone in a familiar way.

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We met at a student council conference. Or maybe it wasn’t exactly that, but something like that. The sort of thing that dorky smart motivated high school kids do. You had ridiculous eyes. People don’t understand what the whole “nice eyes” thing is actually about. Unless they have seen someone with eyes like yours. So delicate and yet somehow simultaneously deep.

Of course these being away from home and feeling independent and strong and like your voice matters and you can impact things and be a good leader sorts of things really influence you when you are a kid. So I probably felt more strongly about you than necessary. Nothing happened between us. They have very strict gender separation in the dorms at these events. Oh the hormones of teenagers. We simply must bar them. But we had a connection. I remember your blue tie on that last day. Really made your eyes stand out even more. I remember sitting on that couch very close to you waiting for our parents to come pick us up. I remember crying when I had to go. Not like one single tear. Really crying. Tears streaming.

I was going to come visit you that next summer. We had kept in touch and talked about applying to the same colleges and silly nonsense like that. On my way to your house, I got in my first car accident ever. I wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t pulled out in front of me. I think I would have at least tried to kiss you, and it’s likely you would have complied. That was sort of the end of it though. Torn apart by a car accident. Emotions run so high when you are in high school. When you live in a small town, there is such an exciting pool of boys when you find smart motivated ones from all the way across the state. Too bad you lived so many towns away.

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I remember laying in the back of your dad’s minivan making out really quietly while he drove us home. Somehow the seats must have been removed because it was dark enough that he couldn’t see us laying flat back there. He had just picked us up at the bowling alley. Of course he knew we were making out. Parents always know more than kids give them credit for. He probably thought it was adorable and amazing and he was right.

Your kisses were soft and inexperienced, but every single touch was an absolute thrill. We never made out until after we broke up, and for some reason, I was fine with that. I think the pressure of a “relationship” was all too much for me and this “casual kissing” seemed much more my pace. I was sad about the break up though, so I’m curious how I reconciled it all in my head. I wonder if I cried again when that stopped happening. How does a teenager mourn the loss of an already over relationship? I can’t remember how it finally ended. You probably just found someone who can handle everything you wanted.

I think you were the last boy I dated who acknowledged Valentine’s Day existed while we were dating. You sent me flowers. To my locker? Or delivered to me at lunch. I was so overwhelmed, yet simultaneously thrilled. Did I bring them home? What did my parent’s think? You probably were a really good boyfriend. Especially as high school boyfriends go. I wonder how it would have been different if dating didn’t scare me so much. Not that I think we would be together now or anything. Just that maybe we would have had some good innocent high school make out sessions. That maybe could have prepared me more for what was coming next.


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