Dear You,

I wrote you a letter Monday.  It went into Tuesday’s post.  I figure you are getting it about now and my stomach is sour thinking about it.  it’s just nerves as I don’t know what you’ll say or think.  I mean, I poured all of my heart and soul into it just so that you could know all my cards.  I held nothing back at all.  I then removed you number from my phone and burned the piece of paper it was on.  Not in trying to be rid of you.  But so that I had no choice but hold back and speak first.  I think that will be what’s healthiest.  And what’s fair to me.  It gives you as long as you need to think.  I know you might read this.  I know you have the blog address now.  I’m still trying to pretend you don’t.  But I had to put my fear into words.  I am afraid.  I’m so scared to lose you forever as is one of the possible outcomes of that letter.  But should that be the case, at least I’ll have closure.  Anything is better than the not knowing and insecurities of the past year plus.  I can’t do that anymore.  You are not some douche of a man jerking me around.  I know that.  But you are still…  You’re leaving my hanging, my sweet friend.  Sweet sweet friend.  Stop worrying about whether you’re going to maybe sleep with me and if that’s what I want.  Just worry and think about if we can simply hang out.  See a movie.  Go to dinner.  Talk over drinks.  Talk.  Talk.  Talk some more.  My sweet friend.  I’d enjoy your body, sure.  But I need your words.

Yours, Me