Dear Jack
How are you?
I was very nervous at the prospect of meeting you, I had the shakes. The more it matters, the more nervous you are and it mattered a lot to me. I suspected I wasn't going to be what you expected, whether that was my insecurity shining through or just me being realistic, i don't know. I never really asked why, although I wanted to. Why? To be quite honest being more than friends wasn't an option for me, right from the beginning. I did think you were lovely, but long distance does not work, I know this from experience. You were hopeful and I got caught up in the romance. I've written a very conspicuous blog post about you, about how it hurt. It doesn't hurt as much now. I do wish I had spoken up at the time. That still bothers me. I was a little bit in love with you. That had much to do with how crap things were at home, you were so nice. The day after we met I was so low, so upset. All the way home I struggled not to cry and even when i got home I had to wait before bursting into tears. I took it to heart. Isn't it strange how we start out with our heads on straight, no illusions, we know what is going to happen and yet when it does we still break down and cry and mourn. It's as if we are playing a role of the heartbroken and rejected. Projection.
I remember the first time I saw you. I was walking down the stairs to the platform and there you were in your big coat. I saw you before you saw me. My heart was pounding, like I said I was very nervous.
I couldn't imagine kissing you. I could imagine loving you and being gentle and soft but never passionate, mad, wild sex. I think that has more to do with my view of love and sex being separate entities. Something I am working on. It's worse in a way. I was letting you into my heart, much easier letting someone into my bed. Epiphany alert!
I showed you only what I thought would appeal to you. I was wrong to assume. I wonder if you knew how upset i was. I was going to ask if it was me or if it was like you said, how you weren't ready for a new relationship. The trouble with that is being right is worse than not knowing.
I said there would be no "poor me". I fear I am slipping into that role now. I have a pain in my chest, a solid slab, because this makes me uncomfortable. It makes me want to roar at the injustice of it. Whether i sound like a victim or not I am going to say it. I didn't want you but still you rejected me. I shouldn't have let you. But I am nice, so I did and now I can't undo it. It's fucking annoying. Really fucking annoying. A lesson for me to speak up, to be heard and not to allow myself to be carried along on someone else's dreams.
Ok. Sorry about that. That sounded petty and spiteful. I can't be nice all the time. I still want to push you over into a muddy puddle when you are wearing your best clothes. Let me try and pull it back.
I still think you are lovely. Hearing you speak is a special treat. I miss talking properly. I don't know if we ever will again. I fear we are doomed to facebook friendship. However, I know we are how we are meant to be and if events had happened differently we would still be where we are now. There is more to come. And it is all good. I would like to say I am better off knowing you than not but i'm not sure I mean it. I can be a better friend to you if you let me or if i let myself. We could be better friends? I don't know. I am finding it hard to end on a positive, gracious note. Let me try again.
I hope you find what you are looking for. I hope you are happy with yourself because that is the most important thing, with that in place everything else will follow. I hope we get to hug again, your hugs were lovely. You are warm. You are one of the most genuinely beautiful men i have met. What I wrote in my first message to you still stands, in the spirit of universal love.
big hugs
Bea
