Monday, 2 February 2015

Not a love letter


This is not the introduction I had planned to write....
What I had hoped to write should have flowed like candle lights, Ben Harper, and red wine. What I had planned to write should have made you feel like eating Hallowe’en candy at recess.
But this is not a love letter.
I wanted to wax poetic about you, and only you. Lately, I’ve been writing about a lot of other women, but honestly, I’ve only been thinking about one.
But this is not a love letter.
I do my best to play it cool, to act like I don’t think about every word that I text you, or that I haven’t been waiting around to read your reply. Sometimes I even call you, and that’s a big fucking deal.
But this is not a love letter.
I’m prone to giving you tough love, because it keeps you at bay. And when you’re at bay, I don’t have to worry about you sneaking your way in.
It’s not that I don’t want to let you in – I’m afraid that if I ever do, and one day you decide to leave, I might not ever be able to put myself back together.
But this is not a love letter.
If I had to make you into a character on television, I would turn you into Carrie Bradshaw so that I could be your Mr. Big.
But this is not a love letter.
I can’t promise you a ‘happily ever after’, because I don’t believe in fairy tales. I can’t promise you that I won’t ever be stubborn or sarcastic. I can’t promise you that I’ll never stumble home drunk.
But what I can promise you is this: when times are tough, I will never stray. When you think you can’t take another step, I will be the shoulder you can lean on for support. When all you want to do is cry, I will be there to make you laugh.
But this is not a love letter.
I’ve made it clear what this is not, so perhaps I should tell you what this is.
This is my feeble attempt at letting you know that I notice when you’re not around. Truth be told, when you’re not around, I miss you a lot, and that is not something easy for me to admit.

But this is not a love letter.