Not Over You

Darling,

They kissed in the end.

Sir

©2014 Darling and Sir

 

 

“Not Over You”

Dreams, that’s where I have to go
To see your beautiful face anymore
I stare at a picture of you and listen to the radio
Hope, hope there’s a conversation
We both admit we had it good
But until then it’s alienation, I know
That much is understood
And I realize

[Chorus:]
If you ask me how I’m doing
I would say I’m doing just fine
I would lie and say that you’re not on my mind
But I go out and I sit down at a table set for two
And finally I’m forced to face the truth,
No matter what I say I’m not over you, not over you

Damn, damn girl, you do it well
And I thought you were innocent
Took this heart and put it through hell
But still you’re magnificent
I, I’m a boomerang, doesn’t matter how you throw me
I turn around and I’m back in the game
Even better than the old me
But I’m not even close without you

[Chorus:]
If you ask me how I’m doing
I would say I’m doing just fine
I would lie and say that you’re not on my mind
But I go out and I sit down at a table set for two
And finally I’m forced to face the truth,
No matter what I say I’m not over you

And if I had the chance to renew
You know there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do
I could get back on the right track
But only if you’d be convinced
So until then…

[Chorus:]
If you ask me how I’m doing
I would say I’m doing just fine
I would lie and say that you’re not on my mind
But I go out and I sit down at a table set for two
And finally I’m forced to face the truth,
No matter what I say I’m not over you
Not over you
Not over you
Not over you

Measure a Year of Love

One year ago today, the world tipped and balanced itself again.

Darling swallowed her trepidation and contacted Sir via text messaging.

The paradigm shift happened at exactly 9:25pm local time for Darling on the 17th of September and at 1:25pm on the 18th of September for Sir.

It has been an extremely emotional journey full of sadness, joy, pain, laughter, tears, forgiveness, and immense love – as any great love story should be. The Sir Letters began shortly thereafter.

Sir so succinctly stated to Darling earlier today, “Happy Anniversary Darling.”

A very happy anniversary indeed, Sir. Amen to that.

So to all our readers and fans do us a favour and smile for us today then pay it forward.

Peace and joy –

Love always,

Darling and Sir

 

©2014 Darling and Sir

 

 

HITACHI

 

 

How Long Will I Love You?

Dear Sir,

I love you.

Always,

Darling

©2014  Darling and Sir

 

Lyrics

How long will I love you
As long as stars are above you
And longer if I can
How long will I need you
As long as the seasons need to
Follow their plan

How long will I be with you
As long as the sea is bound to
Wash up on the sand

How long will I want you
As long as you want me to
And longer by far
How long will I hold you
As long as your father told you
As long as you can

How long will I give to you
As long as I live through you
However long you say

How long will I love you
As long as stars are above you
And longer if I may

How long will I love you
As long as stars are above you

Darling Speaks Funny and Sir is Rewarded (Part 2)

My Dear Satiable Sir,

As stated in a previous letter, I ordered an appetizer in my ‘Ah-mer-i-cun’ speak. My scallops morphed into a salad much to my confusion. In order to rectify the situation, I was brought a salad and scallops (I was full before we even had our entrée).

As I was tasting the scrumptious scallops, I bit upon something hard. I spat it out and inspected the offensive object. You took it from me and also gave it your thorough attention. It appeared to be a small piece of plastic. You called the waiter over, and added to his embarrassment after the appetizer kerfuffle by showing him the piece of plastic that was in my dish of scallops.

As an apology, the waiter brought over a very nice glass of port after our meal. As a non-alcoholic drinker, I laughed at the irony. I took a small sip of port just to say I did then I pushed the glass over your way. You took one for the team and happily consumed the conciliatory glass of hootch. That’s my stalwart Sir.

I love you dearly and most sincerely.

Always refined,

Darling

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

My Over Egged Darling

Yes you did get it all when it came to entrees at that particular establishment, both salad and scallops. But let’s be honest you were always a “have your cake and eat it too” kind of girl.

The scallops were scrumdiddlyumptious as I recall. Looking back at it now I think the piece of plastic may have actually been one of the chemical “rocks” they add to hydroponically grown vegetables. I may very well be wrong but it seems like a perfectly reasonable explanation for how it got there. Regardless, it most certainly did not belong anywhere in your meal. 

As for the tasty glass of fortified wine proffered by way of apology, it really did seem the least they could. I’m not sure I would have been able to stop at one though. I have always been a “nothing exceeds like excess” kind of guy. 

Imbibingly Yours

From Sir With Love

©2014  Darling and Sir

Toe-May-Toe or Toe-Mah-Toe

My Dear Verbose Sir,

Apparently I talk funny my love.

Once when we dined out, I ordered scallops,  in my damn Yankee speak, as an hors d’oeuvre. The waiter brought us our appetizers and placed a salad before me. He noticed the confusion on my face and asked if the salad wasn’t to my liking. I told him the salad looked great, but it wasn’t what I ordered. You informed him that I had ordered scallops in your proper Australian accent. The waiter sheepishly stated that he thought I said ‘salad.’ I suppose it was easier for him to guess what I said instead of asking for clarification from the Australian man sitting across from me. Or maybe it was a pride thing?

You thought it was hysterical. We both laughed, and it’s a great memory for us now. This wasn’t the only faux pas that happened to us during our many dining experiences, but I will save them for another letter. Suffice it to say I still like scallops and salad. I’m versatile that way.

Hungrily yours,

Darling

This is not a salad.

This is not a salad.

————————————————————————————————–

My Ravenous Darling

You have nothing like a damn Yankee accent. In fact I would be hard pressed to establish what region you hail from based on your accent alone. I am sure your speech patterns have a very proper name, something like “North American uninflected” or other such guff. I have no idea what it’s really called but it is certainly not southern and definitely not Yankee.

I fear the problem came when you said out loud “scallops.” Here in Australia it is pronounced with a soft “a” whereas your pronunciation was much harder. Therefore to his tender ears it would have sounded like “scallops” with the “cal” part sounding the same as it would in “California,” whereas here in Australia the “a” is pronounced as an “o.” The “cal” sounds the same as it would in “collar.” Therefore to represent it phonetically it would read “scollops.” To his delicate hearing it sounded closer to “salad” than “scallops.”

Clearly you had an issue with seafood while you were here my love. Between the oysters and the scallops our culinary world was rising up against you. I know you prevailed, however you even lived to tell the tale.

Epicureaningly Yours

From Sir With Love

©2014  Darling and Sir

I’ll Be The Greatest Fan Of Your Life

This song says things better than we can. Feel the beautiful, haunting message.

Love,

Darling and Sir

 

“I’ll Be”

The strands in your eyes that color them wonderful
Stop me and steal my breath.
And emeralds from mountains thrust towards the sky
Never revealing their depth.
Tell me that we belong together,
Dress it up with the trappings of love.
I’ll be captivated,
I’ll hang from your lips,
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above.

[Chorus:]
I’ll be your crying shoulder,
I’ll be love’s suicide
I’ll be better when I’m older,
I’ll be the greatest fan of your life.

And rain falls angry on the tin roof
As we lie awake in my bed.
You’re my survival, you’re my living proof.
My love is alive and not dead.
Tell me that we belong together.
Dress it up with the trappings of love.
I’ll be captivated,
I’ll hang from your lips,
Instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above

[Chorus]

And I’ve dropped out, I’ve burned up, I’ve fought my way back from the dead.
I’ve tuned in, turned on, remembered the things that you said

[Chorus:]
I’ll be your crying shoulder,
I’ll be love’s suicide
I’ll be better when I’m older,
I’ll be the greatest fan of your…
I’ll be your crying shoulder,
I’ll be love’s suicide
I’ll be better when I’m older,
I’ll be the greatest fan of your life.

The greatest fan of your life.
…greatest fan of your life.

Mr. Sir, Is That You?

My Soothing Sir,

That first night after I texted you after all those years, I had trouble sleeping. My head was still reeling with the reality that we had just exchanged messages. I felt surreal. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that we had actually communicated. The next day at work it was all I could think of, and I know there was a part of me that couldn’t quite believe that it was indeed you.

With that thought process weighing on my mind, I surprised myself (and you) by ringing you out of the blue the next evening after work. I kept thinking that if I heard your voice, it would all be genuine. I had never forgotten your voice. I needed and wanted that connection to be able to accept that it really was you who was responding to my messages.

I dialed your number and you answered. I heard you. You said words and sentences to me, but I felt bewildered. I could tell it was you, but you didn’t sound as I had remembered. I felt let down and dismayed with myself. I was appalled to think that my memory of your voice – the one thing I had prided myself in remembering – was flawed. I tried to hide my disappointment in myself. I couldn’t contain my emotions, and I finally disclosed to you what I was thinking. You told me later how that made you feel. It’s really quite comical now, and I think I’ll let you finish this story.

Suffice it to say, that it all worked out in the end, and the puzzle was solved. I wasn’t as erroneous as I assumed. You are Sir – voice and all.

Mesmerizingly yours,

Darling

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

My Shocking Darling

I remember that call all too well. Yes we had texted earlier in my day, and I had postponed an appointment so we could continue to do so. When I finally left I headed out and I can remember standing at my friend’s back door with tears streaming down my face. I was an absolute dribbling idiot. I headed home and cracked a bottle of wine. I just sat at my computer desk and tried to distract myself by playing some old computer game or another.

Night began to fall and there I was sitting in my darkened home with no light other than the evil glow of my neglected computer screen. There was a knock on my door and my same  friend had arrived to check on my well being.  It did not look good.  Here I was sitting alone in the dark inhaling a bottle of wine. All I could do was think of you. My thoughts and emotions were a blur. I reassured her that I would still be alive in the morning, and that I would not be on the next flight to America. She left and I continued my consumption. 

Well one bottle led to another and suddenly it was 10.00pm and my phone rang. I knew it was you. I had saved your details into Tango. At that point I don’t think I even knew that Tango had voice capabilities. I remember registering a modicum of surprise at that fact. In the context of my day it was small change however, the fact we had spoken for the first time in 14 years was the killer on that front.

You my love, had at least been to sleep. I however was one glass away from finishing my second bottle of what was quite frankly pretty awful wine and I was emotionally overwrought when my phone began ringing. Of course I answered, there was never any question. I remember being devastated when you said I didn’t sound the same. As you know I have always been a little vain when it comes to my voice. I tried to explain that the emotion and the wine weren’t helping. I could tell by the incredulity in your tone that you were more than a little doubtful on that fact. If for one moment I had thought you would call I would have remained stone cold stone sober. 

So there you have it. Our first conversation after fourteen years, and I was an emotional drunk. Why did you call again?

Imbibingly Yours

From Sir With Love

©2014  Darling and Sir