where do you start this...

Where do you start this? As a letter as if you will ever actually read this or as a journal entry that I hope one day you’ll come across and it will explain the obvious? At least I’m being honest now; before I would write something like this and pretend that I would never show you but knowing deep down that you would read it and I would perhaps even read it to you. A lot of blabber--a lot of digression--to put off what I want to say and convince myself for the millionth time--despite your reaction--I need for you to know...

I remember the first time I saw you. I remember the first time I talked with you and I have vivid and distinct memories of time before you however, I’m not sure I have ever felt understood until I met you. As I get to know you more, the more you understand me should scare me but it doesn’t—it comforts me, it warms me, it strengthens me.

We fit, whether it’s in an office, at a table, on a couch, in a bed, over the phone, or on the computer, we fit and I love that we do. I keep hoping that you’ll just show up at my door. When I see those words on this screen I get a little chuckle: I have literally spent the last year of my life trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, as anonymous as I can imagine, as noncommittal as I can muster and when I think I’m at my prime—bam it hits me and I want you to show up and surprise me. You are with me even though you are miles from me. You wake up with me and go to sleep with me, you walk with me, you calm me, you frustrate me, you excite me, you inspire me, you protect me and you encourage me. There are a thousand reasons which make this wonderful and a few that make it impractical and sometimes a few is all a couple of scaredy cats need.

You told me you think for two. I still think I’ll see your reflection in the glass of my door every time that door opens near my office. I long to hear your voice and I ache to feel your heart beat against my cheek. It could all be over tomorrow or last week, with two of the most stubborn and jaded people involved in a whirlwind like this, it’s bound to end. I’m bound to read a saved copy of this months from now or years from now and either regret (which would be the first time) that this didn’t work or feel embarrassed that I’m gushing like a little girl over the intensity in which I care for you. I like you. I mean I really like you as a person, who you are, where you came from and what you’ve been through and what you have put yourself through. I don’t like the self-pity and self-hatred that surfaces every other day since you moved but I know that is also apart of you and I can't disect the peices that are less attractive. I don’t want to save you. I want to help you and I want to be there for you. God will save you and we will praise Him together.


You’re not online tonight which I never take as a good sign. You’ve been really depressed lately and although yesterday did give you some reprieve, I fear you have reverted back and you fear that I will be disappointed in you; I will be disappointed and frustrated. I will second guess my feelings and my intentions. I have done that a hundred times since this part of you surfaced but no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to turn around and walk in the other direction. I know, I know it’s because I know you’ve already done that. You’ve walked away for me and from me and there are points in my day the thought paralyzes me.

So I just ended the last conversation we will ever have. I ended it as I began this, with very little words but with heartfelt emotion. I think you just broke my heart. You don’t want to be with me because you can’t have sex with me. After all the talk about people looking at me and perceiving one thing and getting another; after not wanting to be looked at as a pretty face but wanting to be valued for my opinions and intellect. I’m told with out sex you won’t continue the relationship with me.

I wonder if I love you even despite the fact that I know I don't. I wonder if I really know what love feels like because I’ve had, so few if any, experiences with being blissfully in love. Is there really such a thing? I think you’re a bastard. I think you are a fake. I think a thousand horrible and nasty thoughts that are punctuated only with more disappointment and still I think I may have wanted to love you. I put passed tense because I will wake up tomorrow strong and determined to no longer care for you. I promised I would never abandon you but what did you promise me? If you loved me I would take better to making love to you but you don’t love me you just want to screw me as if that completes the transaction.

I’ve committed my life to Christ and I want someone who will do that as well. I’m sure somewhere in that AA book of yours it says not to substitute physical relationships to that of the bottle. You don’t care. You got off-line and were content in your choice and happy with your decision, only feeling sorry for how everything ended. You don’t feel like you will miss out on what I will give you which makes me more sad than you can ever possibly imagine. I remember you saying you didn’t want the opportunity to pass by without at least seeing where this would go. I remember sitting on my couch telling you I wanted to wait until I got married before I had sex and I remember how great you were. It made me smile for weeks thinking that I have found the man who would wait for me and unwrap me like a present on our wedding day. I was disillusioned like so many times before. I think that you will call but you won’t; I think that you will email me but you won’t. Perhaps I hope rather than think…and my life passes me by.

I used to come home from class with anxiety just hoping and praying that Matt would have decided to call me, and when he didn’t I couldn’t pick myself up again. Once that relationship ended I was able to say and believe that I never wanted to feel that again: the great anticipation followed by the great disappointment, I’ve had that feeling a hundred times with you in the last month.

I want to make love to you. I want to feel your breath on my mouth as you fall to kiss me. The rise of your body brings you closer to me and your skin brushing against my stomach feels like silk. My legs wrapped around you what seems like twice, holding on, breathing deeply. I arch my back wanting to swallow you. I swear there are times I feel like I can’t get enough of you and wonder if that is a sign. A sign of unrealistic expectations or a sign that you were the man I loved for a brief time hoping for forever.

I want the best for you. I can’t imagine you kissing someone else; your mouth is so soft and perfect. I hope one day I forget what it felt like to kiss you.

Do I think I’ll be able to stick with it? Honestly, I think no. I will be weak. I think of having sex with you and I can almost convince myself that I won’t be miserable the moment after. What is worse is: I don’t think I would be miserable but that you would be and the relationship would end regardless because you would think you weren’t worth my giving that up; it will be this vicious cycle.

I miss you. I miss every single part of you. I wonder if I will be better off with out you. No I won’t be. My life was better for having known you even if it was only worth screwing me for. You broke my heart. I don’t trust you and I won’t be there for you. I can’t. You can’t be there for me. You can’t support me as a lover in the decisions I make. I believe in God. I believe He will steer me in the right direction and he will make the love of my life that much more because I have faith in His goodness. God help me. Through trials I gain perseverance. I would have kissed away all the pain and given you a rainbow of love had you loved me for just one moment. Good bye.

So only a few days have passed since I wrote this and it does seem like longer; my inclination is to say an eternity but that would be a lie. Several things have happened in the last couple of days and my instinct is to think: ooh, I’ll tell you, but then I remember and it hurts. I wonder if people can see the transition? Sometimes I think it must be obvious, when it starts to hurt I put my shoulders back take a deep breath and tell myself I can do this. I realize I talk to no one. I talk all day long and tell them nothing. That makes me so sad but safe and right now safety trump cards friendships. I looked to teach English abroad tonight and found an organization that requires little and pays nothing. I’m thinking about going to Chile and Peru. The program lasts 3 months for $2600 with the opportunity to stay longer if I want. I’m thinking that sounds good—get away from this. Its been an emotional and stressful week but I was able to bake on Tuesday and make everyone smile yesterday and today—maybe that is my calling. People keep telling me to open a bakery—there’s an idea. This doesn’t count, typing on my computer something I know now you will never read. I talked to my one friend-who has experienced more loss than I could imagine- she says I’m better off without you and anyone not willing to wait is not worth it. You are different than I thought but still one of the greatest and strongest people I have ever met. I wonder if you miss me or if this has become second nature already. I don’t want to turn everything off because one day I may just turn to stone. You have your life and miserable as it may be it is what you want and I hope you are happy.

I wonder if you have already found someone to have sex with. I wonder if you think about me or if all you do is think about yourself. I really thought you understood me. I really thought you were different. I want to forget what your arms felt like when you hugged me. I want to forget what your smile looked like when you came into my apartment. I want to forget what your breath felt like in my ear, what the side of your face felt like against my cheek and how you smelled when you weren’t at work. For just a small moment in time, I wasn’t scared. I was comfortable and safe with everything you knew about me and I couldn’t wait to tell you more.

Here I am months later reading a copy of this I saved on my c:drive. I don't have any regrets. I especially don't regret not sleeping with you. Not because I have ill feelings towards you but because I know God has a specific plan for me and you were just a fleeting line in the novel of my life. With you, I would have slunk back into my habit of pretending like I can really accomplish being the catcher in the rye; and I would have tried to save you from yourself, your depression, your past. You are a recovering alcoholic who was screaming to be left alone as you pulled me closer. You were very special to me because I know for a brief moment when I was really scared you got it--you understood me.

I have forgotten all those things I wondered if I would. And only now when I read this, do I go back to the place where some of those memories reside. Your mouth was so soft and you smelled so good but those are hardly reasons to break a promise I made to God.