Archive for November, 2012

Dear J.

We met when I was in the seventh grade, and you were an eighth-grader. That was twenty years ago. There was always something between us; we were intense, you a Pisces, me a Scorpio. Ain’t it the truth. We talked, we laughed, we flirted, and I was scared. I didn’t know what to do with my body there in its wheelchair, didn’t know how to feel or be pretty in your eyes. But you were a kind high school boy, and said truly meaningful things like, “I really like when you wear that sweater, it makes your boobs look really good.” I am pretty sure we loved each other, in the sweetest, most longing kind of way. Time went by; we went on one date, to the movies to see Claire and Leo kill themselves for love, and you held my hand for the first time on the way home. It took another whole year for our first kiss, even after everything. I have never felt more special.

More time went by, we decided we were not for each other, met, dated, and screwed other people. But it was always there, that chance we had never taken, the secret refuge and promise of nostalgia. You always said you wanted to be married and a dad by the time you were 26, and you were. You are a great dad, even though you and his mom got divorced. Through it all we would touch base sometimes. We always knew the other one was out there, something good, something sweet, somehow ours. You used to call me long distance from overseas when you were in the service and you hated it.

More years went by, and I would hear about you, or see you on Facebook, and there was still that old pull. I asked you, out of the blue, to go out of town with me, and you wanted to, but had just started a new job, and couldn’t get away. But you wanted to, you said so, and I believed you.

You got a new phone this summer and texted me from your new number. We had maybe not really talked in ten years or so. You finally admitted that you had unresolved feelings for me, how much you wished we had taken bigger steps in our relationship, and how you thought of me so much. You said if we had gone out of town you would have taken your chance to make love,with me, and love and love and love with me. I asked you if you realized you are the person that other than my family has been in my personal interior life the longest, and wasn’t it great to know we still had each other in some way? You said you did, and yes, it was, and like me, you were glad and thankful.

We made plans to see each other shortly after that, when you were going to be in ____, an hour away, for a week-long work conference. We were going to meet here, at my house, alone and finally adults, on a Friday night. I cleaned the house from top to bottom and put on makeup. And all that day, you did not answer my calls or my texts. You did not come. You did not call or text, or make any contact with me. No excuses, no stories, nothing. I was sure it was because something happened with your son, or to you. You would never do that to me. Not the boy I knew, with those beautiful deep brown eyes. The one I had known for so long, and who maybe loved previous teenage me. I preferred to imagine you in some emergency, and was prepared to give you enough time to get in touch.

Weeks went by. No word. Casually, I saw a comment you posted on someone’s FB. With a sense of disbelief, I clicked on your name, because it meant that clearly you were right there where you had always been, and not forgivably run off the road, in a ditch and then in traction. And I saw your status, saying how happy and in love you were, and I saw your new girlfriend.

I just don’t understand. Did you decide it wasn’t worth it, that the chemistry was not enough, that out twenty-year history was not worth a returned phone call, or a straight answer? I will never know for sure, because I will never ask you, and because it doesn’t really matter. You aren’t who I thought you were. You are not the man you say you strive to be.

You wouldn’t believe it if I told you, but I’m not really angry anymore. I’m not hurt that you treated me the way you did this summer. I am very hurt, though (and you deserve to know and hear this) that you did not respect me or everything that had been between us. I am sad that I feel now that I never really knew you at all, and that when I look back on all those sweet, fond, innocent, exciting, charged, tender, funny, laughing, sexy, patient, stolen moments, they are tarnished now, and kind of empty. You have stolen away the brightness and warmth that you yourself gave me, and that I had made a part of myself for so long.

Goodbye. You made this choice. I don’t need to know why. But I hope you stay gone. I won’t try to find you.


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can i tell you that you have been on my mind this morning?

standing in the train on my way to work…the image of you was running in my head…i am no maniac, but i keep on seeing your face and your naked body…i am craving to touch and feel you again…though i know as you told me already, it is not possible…i feel a little pinch in my being now…it is called regret…

why didn’t i let go of everything when i was with you? i want you so close to me again…to grab you and your behind to pull you so close to me…to go down on you and to devour every inch and centimeter of your sex…to taste everything that is about you…i should not have minded the feeling of being tired that day with you…if i had known it was the first and last day with you, i would not have slept for even one second…i want to feel your weight on me again. pressing my face on your sheets as you bite my nape like a cat…

yes, we live in different continents…but for 20 hours we were together that day and i was in your territory…and we spent 14 hours making and breaking and creating love…stolen moments behind the souvenir shop on top of that magical cathedral and in every wing of the gallery…and the languid afternoon delight we spent in your kitchen…and up the stairs to that wicked bed of yours…in between wine and panna cotta…

and now i’m back in my far eastern world…alone again…all of them who will come after you are ghosts…they do not know how to touch me the way you did. they don’t know how i melt and die at the touch of your breath on my back. they don’t smell like you after hours of foreplay. their mouths don’t have your flavor. our flavors mixed together in your lips and your tongue. creating a distinct taste i can never have again…

when i met you for the very first time in person…that morning, outside my hotel, in an unfamiliar city…i did not pause to think. there was no fear or doubt in me. you could have been a serial killer for all i care…i let go of all my inhibitions and i enjoyed every dart of pleasure…all of our words and letters came alive that day. all of our potent threats to each other’s needs became tangible. i never thought it was possible for us to be together that day but it happened. period.

…and now you tell me now that it is impossible to happen again. now you answer my yearnings with cruel cruel words. you tell me that to desire is better than to have. but i am not a masochist. i am a 31 year old woman in need of a man. it just so happens this man is you. and our needs do not meet anymore…

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So everyday I keep my phone near and dear to me, and hoped that in the event you thought about me your little fingers would dance over to the keys and type that email. And tell me you miss me or are thinking of me but no such luck. All I get is some random response to some small talk email I sent you.

My biggest fear is that you stopped caring. I LOVE you so much it hurts. You never told me you loved me, but for some reason every time I’m with you, I feel the presence of your love. The way you touch me, the way you watch me, and think I don’t see, the way you wrap your body around me, and make me feel like the world could end but together we are enough.

So I tell you I’m off and would love to spend Christmas/ New Years with you, and you tell me you will see what you can do and said my name, I liked that, you told me money was tight.

I told you- I would pay for everything. That was 4 days ago, why haven’t you responded….

Do you really not care about me anymore? I somehow still think you do. Am I wrong?

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You and I are soul mates. I am angry at you for telling me to depend on you and running when I did. I am angry that the last thing you said to me was “You are amazing and I am sorry if I did anything to make you feel otherwise.” IF? IF? How about two years of not loving me back–of not ever opening yourself to me, often empty promises of trips we never took or things that never happened, taking me for granted, or the hot and cold and constant back and forth–or for not even allowing me to love you the way I wanted…or at all.

You won.

You did it.

You took a great relationship and sabotaged it to nothing. Just pain. I am not even sure you feel pain. Do you feel at all?

You pushed me away. I finally give up on you–us.

But not on me.

One day you will miss me. You will wish you had been brave. You will miss the sound of our laughter. Our jokes. Our noses rubbing after sex. The incredible open sexual side of us. The late night talks. The cheerleader I was for you as a father, a man, a worker, and a lover. You will miss me. I hope I haunt your heart for years–

You hurt me, you knew you were hurting me, and I had to walk away. . .

I feel different this time. I don’t want you anymore. I feel more pain that you didnt love me back than anything else. I am surely worth loving. Our love just sat there and you ignored it. Didn’t take care of it. Let it grow. You never even picked it up to accept it. And that I will never forgive you for. Since you never “tried” to “be good to me as you wanted to be” it never had a chance.

We deserved a chance.

I will forget you. Your touch. Your smile. Your voice on the phone at night. Your “hey babe” messages. Your scent. The feeling of you with me as one. I will lose it all over time.

And I wont look back. . . even if you appear. I am done. Done loving you. I love myself too much to try to love you for one more day.

But I do do miss you.


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Finding out you slept with men while I was pregnant was the start of my rolling downward life. And the snowball grew–how did I not see you for what you were so long ago? You are such a liar. And you want me to apologize for saying you were a lying? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? That’s the funniest thing I have ever heard. EVERY person I have told that to laughs and laughs. YOU want me to apologize for thinking you are a liar? You lied last week. . .last month about our daughter’s whereabouts–in front of her. And futhermore every thing that went wrong in my life the past three years was based around your lies. You are gay. You have sex with strangers off craigslist. You are immoral. You cheat and steal from others. You disappoint me. I wish I could be done with you. I find you to be disgusting. I hate you for all you have done and I hope you one day learn to be a good person. I am not counting on it.

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Why aren’t you here? Why haven’t you contacted me? Not for your own selfish needs, (No, that text message in the middle of the night to”call you back, because you were stressed out” doesn’t count) but to ask how I am.

I love love love getting texts from your sister, not because she’s my closest friend, but because she’s my only connection to you.

A forlorn me.

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I had a dream I sent you an email. It said I’m ok, hope you are ok too! I sent it at 2:33 am. When I woke up, and checked my sent mail, it was absent. It was only a dream. why would I dream I emailed you?

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a little ditty for inspiration to write down what you couldn’t say.


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I check my email often, perhaps a little too often, but one things for sure- each time I check- there’s only one name I want to see in my inbox. And alas today it was there. Opening my email and seeing it, gave me a flutter. Made my heart skip a beat. I wondered what you finally decided to say to me. Let it be known I sent you 4 prior emails, and you have not emailed me in two months. On August 29th you said we should “be friends” and keep in touch, because you cared about me…Yes, I want you as a friend but no I don’t want to get a random email from you after two months, that has nothing to do with any of the previous emails I sent you. I think about you everyday. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss you and more importantly LOVE you. Seeing that email in my inbox always makes me hopeful thinking that you are going to come back for me and we are going to run away together, and I’m going to tame the wild animal inside you. Not cage you just tame you. read the Awekener, the story of Helen Weaver and Jack Kerouac. You are my Jack. Come back.

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i don’t know if it’s better to keep it to myself or say it out loud, but i feel like we’ve already crossed this line in a million tiny ways that what the fuck.

i know you obviously have a bazillion and ten things going on and certainly don’t need extra confusion, but i just feel like it’s only fair that i am totally clear that i would make out with you in a second. not just like when we talked about it before and i acted all casual about it, like, yeah, i would do that again if you are up for it. but more like, i just want to. of course being friends with you is far more important than making out and i value your friendship so fucking much it’s ridiculous. so i don’t want to jeopardize that and i feel confident enough in our friendship that i don’t think this email will, regardless of how you take it. and please know me well enough to know that it also doesn’t matter and won’t impact me or us if you just say um, no. or if you disregard this entirely.

so that’s quite enough embarrassment for one email.

don’t ignore me at school tomorrow.

*editors note: this does not qualify as an “unsent letter.” sent it word for fucking word. i’m just a glutton for public self-shaming, apparently.

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