Wednesday, February 8, 2012

A letter - Delivery, not intended

Forgive me but I have a lot on my mind.

I am not a game player, never was, and never will be.

I know that you have blocked the content of Facebook so that I can't see. I know that you deleted my posting to your wall. I asked for the ground rule. You brushed it off. I don't know why but I suspect there are reasons behind it. I think you might be worried about me knowing where you are about, snoop around your friends or make too many comments. I think you might want to keep me as a secret, and that you might find my liaison with you a contradiction to your otherwise single swinging image, or you might be worried that those friends you talked about me with, would have any reaction to me commenting on your post. Or simply, you may be hiding other things you don't want me to know about.

Whatever the reason may be, I know that I can understand and I am an adult, I just need you to be forthcoming with me. I don't like to be treated like an infant and be brushed off.

There is a reason that I am attracted to you. I find that you are open, honest, and trustworthy. I'm sexually compatible with you.  You are or were attracted to me.  I am not going to dwell on it, but I do need to know that if we were to continue, whatever this is, we have an open dialogue and I'm a big girl, I can handle the truth.

If your interest in me is purely sexual, at your convenience, state so. I don't need an explanation, a made up reason. If you are seeing other people. State so. We will use protection. I like ground rules - i.e. weekend is for your son, your friends, your social stuff, I should take no part in it; week days we could see each other, for sex, and you would need to arrange it so that it suits your schedule; on occasion, you may want to "play" and invite me over to stay. These are ground rules I'm happy to explore them with you. I have a rational side of me. In my writing, my character may fall in love with her counterpart, in reality, I'm tough and I can stop feeling if I know it's not reciprocated. I am a realist in reality.

We were friends, platonically. I can go back there, and we can be each other's running partners, or someone we could call on to have dinner / drink with, or to go out. As I started out this exploration with you, I told you that I was very interested in establishing human connections, connecting with other people, friends. I didn't expect sex, or good sex for that matter.  Each friend / person satisfies a need in our lives, forcing someone to fit into one category that is not intended for that person, is useless.

I have been very accommodating, because sex has been great. I think it's easy to fall in love. Because that's the simple part. In my writing, you may detect that I was going there. But in reality, I can assure you that I would never put you or myself in awkward position.

I write this so that others could read and digest this and perhaps take a lesson here and there. I don't intend for you to read it. I had a writer who said that upon reading the Ethan and Olivia story, he felt that the characters would have a chance of making it. He does not understand why they won't. I replied by saying - because I write like it is a reality. I don't dream for a happy ending. Because it won't come.

In my writing, I don't see utopia either. I have found that whatever we think we want to have, when we have it, it's not what we want; or we never really get to have it. Who you are to me is who you present yourself to me. In a real relationship, we'd have more contact.  You never call. You never email. You disappear into thin air. You never introduce me to your friends. You talk about me to others and they say that I'm a "sweet deal". I know that your intention of me, is sexual. I wish that you just tell me that. Again, I can handle it. I like ground rules.

I turn off my romantic side, I can pursue friendship. One which demands nothing from you, not emotional attachment, not exclusivity. I am just as happy to arrange for a booty call as I would be spending a night with you. I'm OK with the concept of having you as a secret lover or be open about our relationship to other people. I also can be just a friend. A platonic friend. My passion is reserved for those who are worthy of my love and my attention. My lust is therefore reserved for those other situations. Situations which involve you, I suspect.  I would never confront you. I write. I write these thoughts down. So that if you stumble onto it, you know how I really feel.

I am a big girl. I cry (because I did, at some point, fall for you. I wanted to be with you at almost any cost), I then move on, I don't dwell on things. I find the silver lining. I continue down the path of seeking truth, romance, love, lust and in the end, trust. Trust which you couldn't render. Trust I gave you, which you had squandered carelessly.  I am therefore, sad, I've been crying. I think the saddest part of it, is somehow, against all advisories, I trusted you. Silly, that word of "trust", carry so much weight, and yet so easily be rendered obsolete. I sometimes wonder if you know the truth from lies, I wonder if you are a habitual liar, and can't keep your story straight. I wonder if I'm one of many women you bed. I don't care, but I don't like to be lied to. I much rather treat a man as a friend if I can't trust him as a lover. I can switch off my lust, and turn on my rational side. It is a switch that I am used to turn on and off. That has always been my strength. Perhaps to my peril, to my detriment.

I've found that perhaps the universal truth is, one does not change. One never changes. Dynamics does not change. I refer what I wrote about you nearly fourteen years ago. I suspect that you are a worse version than before, yet the naive, passionate, only-see-the-good-of-you me, thought that I was wrong. But perhaps as a hunter, back then, I was more in tune with the reality, and quicker to sniff out the good vs. bad. It is therefore a shock, for me to declare how important you are in my life, just merely a week ago, to discover everything is likely a mirage, built on quick sand, and I'm therefore sinking. I sink to the abyss. I cry on the way down. For I had harbored nothing but untainted affection for you. For I have never thought anything negative about you, accommodated you, accepted your changeable ways, and I did all this because I thought that I could trust you. Ah, the word "trust", the feeling of trust. Once gone, never to return again. I will resurface like phoenix, I promise you that.

I will always be cordial, affectionate, loving, and I will always be the person you prefer to see. There is no time for any of this. I cared about you once, I cared about you twice. I am fooled, both times. It's not your fault, you are who you are. It's my own fault. I trusted you. I should know better.

I shall wait, wait for you to stumble onto this, wait for your reaction or lack thereof, and I go from there. I'm ready to say goodbye. 

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