I would be remiss if I didn't
mention straight away that although I broke up with Kristen, I met someone in
Austin and my heart remains in limbo. It sounds ridiculous that someone
can come out of a two and a half year relationship and slide directly into
another, but I think I must be doomed to jump straight into things with both feet
and then complain about the consequences until I'm ready to do it again.
I think there's some psychological mechanism in play whereby I'm compensating
for my lack of self-esteem by latching on to the first female figure that shows
me any sincere interest, like a life preserver in a big, lonely ocean of
self-doubt. I get eager to be single, live the life of a lone wolf, and
then melt into a puddle when someone touches my hand.
So my plan for last night was to somehow wind up alone with you, eyes locked, heart rates increasing, thoroughly boozified. I would give you one tender, lingering kiss and explain that as ridiculously hard a thing it is for me to do, I must resist being "that guy". I've learned from all the times I've had a guilty conscience in my life that it's a situation I'd prefer to avoid in the future. I want to fly to Austin for Thanksgiving, see this girl with whom I've shared numerous late-night giggly telephone conversations and have the clear conscience necessary to lay the foundation for....well, anything. I also want to be able to hug you the next time I see you, run my hand through that soft hair, look you squarely in the eye, and know that you understand how I feel about you--how staggeringly beautiful I think you are, how intelligent, how warm, how unlikely a collection of qualities most people would settle for one or two of. That's the purpose of this email.
Your power to knock the wind out of me has spanned over two millennia, as I'm pretty sure I must've first laid eyes on you around 1999 or 2000. The leggy brunette, always in tastefully skimpy attire, always smiling. The kind of person you want to see when you've been in school all week- the kind of person that reminds you that holy shit, there's a beautiful world out there. Even for someone like me, who never felt like he would have a chance to personally experience the kind of world where people like you were, it was nice to know it was there.
The revelation that you have brains and a sense of humor combined with your looks to create this insane triple-jackpot that's incredibly rare and always seems so underappreciated by the guys who wind up with such girls. Someday I'm going to break your door down and carry you away. I won't take no for an answer. I'll be sick of seeing other guys wind up with you. I'll carry you as far as I can and do whatever it takes to see to it that a smile never leaves your lips.
It's unfortunate that statements like "I've wanted to fuck the shit out of you for a long time" can say so much about one part of what I think when I look at you, but there's no similarly blunt way to express the respect I have for you. I'm not lucky enough to have spent a lot of time with you one on one, but I've enjoyed every conversation we've ever had and you always leave me wanting more. It's like the old Chinese proverb about drinking salted water- each refreshing sip leaves you thirstier than before. I'd still be telling you that if you weren't impossibly hot. I suspect your outer appearance is largely a reflection of a profound inner beauty, and I hope you have someone close to you who understands that, be it a lover or a friend.
The furthest thing from my mind last night was making you jealous or angling ______ as leverage against you. I just needed a ride home, and it's a good thing because I can't imagine what would've happened if I wasn't there to take over when she started throwing up. Like I said last night, she was in need of kindness and regardless of what the situation might be between the two of you I was pleased to be in a position to provide it.
I think this might be sufficient to give you at least a slight indication of where I'm coming from. I'd be happy if you were a bigger part of my life, but I can't promise I'll be in a position to immediately make good on my claims to desire fornicating with you. It's hard for me to say that to someone I've had filthy fantasies about on a regular basis for years and years. My god, to even see you nude...
...must stay on track.
Okay, so anyway that's that. You're a tremendously special person and whenever we make eye contact from now on I want you to understand that I'm wordlessly reminding you of that fact. I'll be saying all the things that words can't--at least not with any semblance of accuracy.
If I'm being nerdy and romanticizing a bunch of stupid drunken text messages, I'm sorry. I can't get such amazing communications from someone like you and then treat them trivially. I'll (fondly) remember those late-night exchanges forever.
Bottom line: I'm picky about who I genuinely like, and I like you. I just want you to know it unequivocally.
So my plan for last night was to somehow wind up alone with you, eyes locked, heart rates increasing, thoroughly boozified. I would give you one tender, lingering kiss and explain that as ridiculously hard a thing it is for me to do, I must resist being "that guy". I've learned from all the times I've had a guilty conscience in my life that it's a situation I'd prefer to avoid in the future. I want to fly to Austin for Thanksgiving, see this girl with whom I've shared numerous late-night giggly telephone conversations and have the clear conscience necessary to lay the foundation for....well, anything. I also want to be able to hug you the next time I see you, run my hand through that soft hair, look you squarely in the eye, and know that you understand how I feel about you--how staggeringly beautiful I think you are, how intelligent, how warm, how unlikely a collection of qualities most people would settle for one or two of. That's the purpose of this email.
Your power to knock the wind out of me has spanned over two millennia, as I'm pretty sure I must've first laid eyes on you around 1999 or 2000. The leggy brunette, always in tastefully skimpy attire, always smiling. The kind of person you want to see when you've been in school all week- the kind of person that reminds you that holy shit, there's a beautiful world out there. Even for someone like me, who never felt like he would have a chance to personally experience the kind of world where people like you were, it was nice to know it was there.
The revelation that you have brains and a sense of humor combined with your looks to create this insane triple-jackpot that's incredibly rare and always seems so underappreciated by the guys who wind up with such girls. Someday I'm going to break your door down and carry you away. I won't take no for an answer. I'll be sick of seeing other guys wind up with you. I'll carry you as far as I can and do whatever it takes to see to it that a smile never leaves your lips.
It's unfortunate that statements like "I've wanted to fuck the shit out of you for a long time" can say so much about one part of what I think when I look at you, but there's no similarly blunt way to express the respect I have for you. I'm not lucky enough to have spent a lot of time with you one on one, but I've enjoyed every conversation we've ever had and you always leave me wanting more. It's like the old Chinese proverb about drinking salted water- each refreshing sip leaves you thirstier than before. I'd still be telling you that if you weren't impossibly hot. I suspect your outer appearance is largely a reflection of a profound inner beauty, and I hope you have someone close to you who understands that, be it a lover or a friend.
The furthest thing from my mind last night was making you jealous or angling ______ as leverage against you. I just needed a ride home, and it's a good thing because I can't imagine what would've happened if I wasn't there to take over when she started throwing up. Like I said last night, she was in need of kindness and regardless of what the situation might be between the two of you I was pleased to be in a position to provide it.
I think this might be sufficient to give you at least a slight indication of where I'm coming from. I'd be happy if you were a bigger part of my life, but I can't promise I'll be in a position to immediately make good on my claims to desire fornicating with you. It's hard for me to say that to someone I've had filthy fantasies about on a regular basis for years and years. My god, to even see you nude...
...must stay on track.
Okay, so anyway that's that. You're a tremendously special person and whenever we make eye contact from now on I want you to understand that I'm wordlessly reminding you of that fact. I'll be saying all the things that words can't--at least not with any semblance of accuracy.
If I'm being nerdy and romanticizing a bunch of stupid drunken text messages, I'm sorry. I can't get such amazing communications from someone like you and then treat them trivially. I'll (fondly) remember those late-night exchanges forever.
Bottom line: I'm picky about who I genuinely like, and I like you. I just want you to know it unequivocally.
