Giddiness

Dear Sir,

In days of old when women were overcome with intense emotions, they would execute a very feminine swoon. I love that vintage term; it’s very Victorian and romantic.

You, my beloved Sir, have accomplished in having me achieve a not-so-graceful, mighty face plant. Swoon indeed – I’m more modern and real.

Swooningly,

Darling

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Dear Darling

The thought of you face planting should horrify me. I would hate for you to hurt yourself, but I must confess I laughed out loud on reading this.

I must say though that as I helped you find your feet again, I assure you I would compose myself in a suitably dignified manner.

You are definitely more modern and very real to me. That being said while I can see how “swoon” has become part of the vernacular it seems unlikely that “face plant” will become quite the expression of modern affection. It may have to remain our little thing.

Face Plantingly

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Golden Tickets

Dearest Sir,

I was sitting in a travel agency, at your request, checking on flights that would take me to you. This was supposed to be an initial query and nothing more. You were on speaker phone with me and the agent at the time. We were discussing all options e.g. airlines, dates, times, prices, etc. I vividly remember you saying, “Enough is enough. Let’s make this happen.” You told the agent that you were paying for a ticket right then and there, and all I had to do was pick the dates.

It happened so quickly that I barely had time to think. You insisted that I fly on Qantas (the top airline as it was Australian). We considered the best dates, made a decision, and that was it. She printed out the tickets and handed them to me. I stared at them, and I believe my hands were shaking. And as you so lovingly like to say “shit just got real.” I had the golden tickets, and Charlie and that damn Chocolate Wonka Factory had nothing on me.

I remember you asking me how I was feeling. I know I was shocked. I was excited. My head was reeling and my heart pounding. You told me that in no uncertain terms did I have to go through with it; I could back out any time. You removed all the pressure, and with that you also removed any doubt. There was no way I was going to let you down. I was coming to you.

We had so carefully and methodically built our relationship over many, many months getting to know one another. I knew you nearly as well as I knew myself – perhaps better. We finished each other’s sentences. We had laughed, cried, and whispered words of love late into the night. It was time.

I’m certain I felt fleeting moments of trepidation, but it was never the leading emotion. That emotion was love. Pure, sweet, and simple love – and it was beautiful. Those golden tickets were priceless, and your arms were waiting.

Loyally,

Darling

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My Darling

I remember that phone call all too well. I believe I was still in bed when I spoke to the travel agent. I don’t think I told her that though. I remember I had to go and grab my wallet to proffer my credit card details.

“Let’s make this happen” makes me cringe a little, not because it isn’t right but because it is all too accurate. No doubt I had reached a point where I felt the need to take charge and promptly did so. I assuredly would have believed it to be the right thing to do, but looking at those words now I wonder if it would not have been more proper to take it more slowly.

I insisted on Qantas not because it was Australian but because it had, and I believe still has, an unparalleled safety record. In the jet age they have had no fatalities. I wanted you to arrive safely and Qantas was the safest option. I would have brokered no argument on that point.

It was a huge step for me as well my darling. I was quite the commitmentphobe before you entered my life. I meant every word when I said you were under no obligation. If you didn’t think it was right there was no point you coming. I just wanted to remove any physical, nay practical obstacle that was impeding our loving relationship. In this case one return plane ticket. So with a cavalier swipe of my credit card I did just that.

Having said all that it was the right thing for us to do. We had to meet, we had to pass that one last test. Was I nervous? Hell yes. Did I think you may not come? In my weak moments I confess I did. But I knew if we met, if we saw one another, held each other, kissed each other, loved one another that we would prevail. Love would prevail. I also remember quite vividly you alighting that plane, but that my darling is for another post.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Can’t Keep It In

My Dear Sir,

I remember when this idea to write letters to you started as a spark in my mind. I wasn’t sure what route the idea would take, and here we are.

As freely admitted (and expressly stated by you here), I didn’t think I would share my letters with you until after some time had passed, yet after only penning a few I had to share and tell you what I was doing, because it felt natural.

When it was mutually decided that we’d share our feelings publicly and anonymously, I hesitated briefly. I wasn’t sure I was ready to have prying eyes privy to my deepest, personal thoughts and expose myself to censure. Anonymity added a layer of protection, yes, but my feelings were and are very raw and real.

You were so humbled at the design and start of this venture. You asked for the right of reply to my letters. I agreed. This story has been unfolding before our very eyes and even we’ve been astonished at its seemingly independent path. It has a mind of its own and I would not presume to restrain it. It’s akin to trying to hold back the ocean. That being said, there is no one else I trust to go on this journey with than you. You are, after all, Sir. That speaks volumes.

I am currently playing this song by Cat Stevens over and over, because it strikes a chord in my heart. He says it so perfectly – I can’t keep it in, and I don’t have to.

Yours completely,

Darling

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Dearest Darling

You are right I was incredibly humbled by your desire to share publically your feelings for me. I knew that there would be many bitter memories mixed in with the sweet. However I am completionist by nature. When I see a film I always watch the credits until the end. I always watch the entire TV series, in broadcast order including the specials, or not watch it at all. For our story, while we have thrown out the chronology, I think it needs to be told in all it’s awful glory, the good bits along with the bad. So when you presented me with this blog I thought that there was another side of the story that could be told.

At the risk of sounding conceited, and with due deference to Stephenie Meyer, I compared our story to her first Twilight novel. The published version being the story from the perspective of Bella, the unpublished and unfinished story being told from the perspective of Edward (I mentioned conceited didn’t I?).

So here we are. The story is unfolding. It has become a runaway train. I don’t think it will derail but I’m damn sure it shows no sign of stopping, and I have no idea which route it is going to take. So my Darling we have our golden tickets to the story of our love. I shake myself occasionally and wonder how we ended up here. Then I smile, think of you, and it just makes sense.

Cat Stevens, well as always your choice of music is excellent. I have not listened to much of him since he became Yusuf Islam but he has a most appropriate song for you, for us really. Two tracks along from your choice on his “The Very Best of” compilation is none other than “Hard Headed Woman”. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to stop myself smiling. I love you my Darling but this song is most definitely for you.

Quaveringly

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Musical Dressing Gown

My Loving Sir,

I mentioned briefly in a previous response the musical dressing gown that you gifted me. I don’t remember the particulars of why you gave it to me, but I do remember you saying that you had a robe that you thought would look fabulous on me. When I tried to give it back, you insisted that I keep it. I think you just liked seeing me in it. Or perhaps you just liked seeing it in a heap on the floor?

The colors in the robe are vibrant and it’s covered in musical instruments – which are totally you. As we’ve stated, music is a common bond that we share, even though you are much more talented in that area. I love the music in you.

I have kept that beautiful robe all this time, though I must confess that for years I hid it away stuffed in a drawer and out of sight. It was just too much of a painful reminder of you – of us. A few years ago, I rescued your dressing gown from its keeping place and it once again holds a position of honor in my closet. I sent you a picture of it recently. You were amazed that the colors have not faded; it is an ideal symbol of us. I love it. Thank you.

Endearingly,

Darling

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My Darling

I remember you in that dressing gown all too well. So let’s just cut to the chase and add the picture that encapsulates you in it.

Blurry Jenn

That photo now appears on my phone. Every time you call me; it’s what I see. It was a Christmas gift from my mother, but it suited you so much better. I felt a little guilty when I told her I no longer owned it, but I knew it had gone to a good home. As for seeing it on you, well lets just say the photo is my second favourite position for the robe. I actually preferred it caressing your ankles in one sudden frenzied movement. Not that it was an image I ever lingered on, there was so much more to see.

I am pleased it has had its place restored in your home and your heart.

It is one of your defining images. I love that you still have it and that it still adorns your body. You say it is an ideal symbol of us and I think you are right. It was hidden away in a wardrobe, it was kept from the light, its existence denied but like our love when allowed back into the sunlight it shone like a beacon and still does. Who knows maybe one day I will get to see it again and you in it (and maybe out of it?).

You Will Always be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Driving

My Dearest Darling

When you came to these fair shores there was one thing I couldn’t do for you. Strange as it may seem but I had never learnt to drive a car. Technically that is not 100% accurate, but for the purposes of the story I no longer had a license (and no I had not lost it through any poor behaviour on my part, including drink driving).  My lack of a license brought with it a number of issues: I didn’t own a car, you were used to driving on the opposite side of the road, and we struggled to find a car hire company that would accept my credit card with your license.

I however was insistent that you see the sites so we found a little company, in Westmead, I think, that would let us hire a vehicle. Well there were a number of things that I remember.

Firstly there was your clear impatience and trouble with stop signs. While driving from Jenolan Caves to the Hunter Valley, we were on some back street in Sydney, trying to avoid the traffic, and approached a stop sign. You asked me if it was ok to go if there was no traffic. I replied “no” and explained that you still had to stop. Clearly deciding I was an unlicensed ignoramus you ignored my advice and made the left turn anyway, much to my amused amazement.

Not long after you expressed your incomprehension at what we call a “silent cop.”  Now this is a bright yellow plinth that had about a 3 inch or 90 mm profile that is used as a guide by motorists so as to not cut corners. Having never encountered one before, you were clearly baffled and quick to ridicule. They are quite an old fashioned traffic management device in this day and age. However on hearing you recall this story I laughed out loud when I encountered one in the back streets of Newcastle today.

Silent Cop

The most sphincter tightening moment for me was however when we were leaving Katoomba. Then, on the Great Western Highway, you decided that the right hand side would be far more appealing than the more traditional left hand side. I decided that I may need a change of underwear.

In fact you did a stellar job of driving me around my fair city and its surroundings. I remember it with great warmth. But my fondest memory of driving with you concerns none of those things. It was placing my right hand on your leg as you drove. I could feel the electricity. I feel it to this day. I would give much money and many personal body parts to be able to look up into your eyes, smile and place my hand gently, but firmly on your left leg again, and then just leave it there for the duration.

 

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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Dear Sir,

I fear I may not be able to reply to this letter appropriately as I am gigging so intensely after reading it. Oh, the memories are many.

I was perplexed that you didn’t drive at the time, but the public mode of transportation system of Sydney cleared up that confusion pretty quickly. My recent trip to Tokyo, Japan reiterated the brilliance of having such a system.  I do remember wondering at the wisdom in throwing a “goddamn Yank” behind the wheel of an Australian car, but your faith in me was unwavering.

A gentleman would not have pointed out my faux pas while driving backwards in your country, but it was good to hear you laugh. You did, however, leave out a few minor details that will clear up any obvious confusion.

I did stop at stop signs. I didn’t blow through them, Sir, and I scoff at the notion. The incident in question was a stop light. In my country, one can turn right on a red light (after coming to a full stop) if there is no traffic coming. I asked if that were true in turning left (remember backwards design here). You stated “no” that I had to wait for a green light.  There was absolutely NO traffic in the vicinity, and I was certain you were wrong. No harm no foul, so I proceeded to turn. I was an ignorant fool, and I apologize. I can still hear your laughter ringing through the car after you screeched like a girl. I have no doubt that I stuck my tongue out at you then (and now).

Those ‘silent cop’ thing-a-ma-jigs still baffle me. They appeal to my rational mind like some kind of driving video game. The more I hit, the more points I can rack up. Of course I never hit one, but I felt their magnetic pull. The temptation was fierce, but I managed to be victorious over their evil power after you told me that if I hit one, we’d blow out a tire. Fabulous!

Now that highway event makes me cringe to this day. To your credit you remained composed as my habitual driving took over and I headed to the right side of the road.  I was oblivious to the fact that it was a six lane highway. You just calmly reached over and guided me back to the WRONG side of the road and only released your breath once we were well on our way. I daresay I noticed finger grip marks on your side of the car, and I wondered where they came from. And might I add that I care about all your body parts including your sphincter, my love. Being in love addled my brain enough at the time without having to flip my way of thinking to operate a motorized vehicle in a foreign country; we were crazy. I’m certain we wouldn’t change a thing. Talking about it now brings tears of mirth, but only because we are safely ensconced in our own homes instead of looking death in the face by having me drive on the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road.

Your favorite memory of driving is also my favorite memory. Your hand represented so much to me – strength, support, warmth, and love. If your hand were to find its way to my leg again Sir, we wouldn’t be driving – electric indeed.

Longingly,

Darling

©2013 Darling and Sir

Twitterpated

Dear Sir,

I accused you of being twitterpated, but you didn’t know what it meant. It made me giggle. You had to Google it. After finding out the definition, you agreed with me, of course.

You really need to educate yourself on the latest love lingo, but my dear Sir I seriously have a soft spot for you.

Twitterpatingly,

Darling

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Dear Darling

I feel nothing but sweetness and light when I hear you accuse me of being twitterpated. It does however gall me to no end that I did indeed have to Google it. As for the latest lingo of love? My love is stuck in a time vortex and I am constantly in early 1999. Therefore I have little need for such contemporary verbosities.

While I agree, endorse and adore the sentiment as a word, it still sounds like someone who is constipated in 140 characters or less!

Yours Most Amorously

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Through My Eyes

My Sweet Sir,

I know I have regurgitated some painful, ugly feelings lately. Many of those feelings surfaced due to new information I received. I am sorry for faltering. Thank you for riding this crazy roller coaster with me and for holding my hand. I know this journey will take time. It tries my patience with myself.

I wish you could see yourself through my eyes if even for a brief moment. You’d see the man I fell in love with 16 years ago. You’d see a man of strength, character, and charisma. And if by some small miracle you could visualize yourself through my eyes, I’d want you to feel the love and emotions that accompany my view. If you could experience my feelings, I think they’d leave you gasping on the floor with their intensity. They would overwhelm you and then you’d truly know and all doubt would be cast aside.

While I cannot pretend or deny away any of your painful actions, I can see past them to the man I once knew. I can feel your heart and soul. I can feel your joys and pains. I can even feel your smiles. When you laugh, the world is drawn in and laughs with you.  And, my oh my, your voice leaves me weak. I remember the gentleness and surety of your touch – the warmth, the passion, the love. My goodness your charm leaves me breathless.

You were and have always been such a magnetic presence. People have constantly looked to you for leadership and answers. You are a force to be reckoned with, and I am in awe.

I am not telling you these things to pamper any vanities or false pride you may have. On the contrary, I am merely expressing my opinions based on facts. You are my Sir – a gentleman of conviction and integrity.  You are a man who makes mistakes, yes, but one who accepts responsibility and doesn’t deviate or pass judgments.

I adore you. I love you.

Hopelessly devoted,

Darling

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My Dearest Darling

Your words are, as always, exquisite. You see something in me that I will grant you maybe was there 16 years ago. I am not sure it is still the case today; it saddens me to say it. With you in my life I was the best that I could be. After my hideous actions I made a string of questionable decisions (actually that’s just being polite, they were atrocious decisions). Sure I could be that guy again. I could be him for the same reasons as I was him 16 years ago. You would be by my side. I don’t doubt your feelings my love, I just wonder if you are in love with a guy who doesn’t exist anymore. I feel manifestly unworthy.

If I were to have a vanity it would be my voice. You know that I have used it professionally over the years but the fact that you derive some pleasure from it makes me incredibly happy. I remember caressing you with my hands, and I long to do so again. My hands still reach out to hold you now. I ache to run my fingers along the length of your legs, to cradle your face in my hands as we kiss, to wrap my arms around you as our passion ignites.

You say that you are in awe of me. I am humbled. It is I that is in awe of you. I know what I did to you. I know how I hurt you. I have carried a flame for you, thinking I would never hear from you again. Then after fourteen and a half years my phone lights up with a message from you. I reread an email I sent you 10 hours later. It was clear even then that I was so in love with you. I could see I was trying to hold it back; I was quite literally in shock. But my love for you just gushed out all the same.

My fear is that I must seem somewhat pathetic, a broken man holding out his hand for help and attention. Once you had truly identified yourself, my heart was in the pit of my stomach. I was transported back through time and all the pain and anguish that I felt came flooding back. Not a shadow, not an echo, not a glimmer. I was there. My terrible deed was done, blood was on my hands and evil was in my heart. I was overwhelmed with the guilt and remorse I had suppressed and ignored for so very long. That I had so callously discarded the thing in my life that was most precious to me, you, made me shake my head in utter disbelief at my own arrogance and stupidity.

I love you my darling, unashamedly, unabashedly and unequivocally. You are back in my life and while I feel totally unworthy, I am still hungry for you. I am selfish and deluded. I will take any morsel I can get and still beg for more. Yes I have accepted responsibility for what I have done, but I have not forgiven myself. There is only one way that I think I ever will. That however is too much to hope for.

 

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Pathetic Excuse

Hello My Darling

 

I have attached below a copy of the letter I sent you three days after you found me. It was my attempt not to justify or excuse myself from what I did, but to try and explain the mindset that I inhabited at the time. I have left it essentially untouched, the names have been removed and one profanity modified. Apart from those changes I have reproduced it in its entirety.

 

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

 

 

My Darling

 

I owe you an explanation, and as unsatisfying as I think you’ll find it, here it is. You will have noticed that yet again I have taken the cowards option and I’m putting it in writing. There seems to be a bit of a habit forming here.

Let me address your most recent poem (Purge). I can’t argue with it because actions speak louder than words and my actions clearly shouted themselves from the rooftops. As you concluded I think we did deserve one another and the outcome we attained. But while I explained it to my future wife as winning and losing it was never how I saw things, just how I knew she would see them.

If I could have that awful conversation with you over again, I would confess my sins, beg your forgiveness and accept the consequences, whatever they may have been. At least I would be able to look myself in the mirror and not see the bastard that I am. Instead I was too proud and duplicitous, all the while wilfully lying to myself about what was really going on. I let the best thing that ever happened to me, and quite frankly the best thing that ever will, slip away through my fingers due entirely to my own stupidity. You are the gold standard that I have measured any would be partner by; no one has even come close.

You made me a better person, I could be the man I wanted to be with you and most importantly I could be the man you deserved. When you were in my life I was blinded to the world and could only see you. I have no one to blame but myself.  Anyway, here’s what I remember. I am sure if I ever hear from you again it will be to correct the facts (I will admit I can’t remember them exactly) but I vividly remember the raw emotion of that time.

We spoke on the phone as we always did, we talked about being together. We talked about what we had to do to make that happen. Then something changed, you said something to me that rocked my world. I can remember a wave of dread and loss washing over me. I was literally grateful for the fact that I was lying down because I felt like I had been hit with a tonne of bricks. I remember putting on a brave face and pretending it was all ok while inside my heart was breaking. There so many things in the mix, your parents, your children, your church. By the end of the conversation it was my understanding that you wanted to be entirely sure that you were committed to the big changes we were about to make. I am not blaming you for any of this. It was just how I interpreted what was said. For some insanely stupid reason we agreed to drastically reduce our contact. Looking back at it now any moron could see that stopping communications was the dumbest thing we could do. What a fuckwit I was for thinking that idea would work.

I hung up the phone and bawled like a little baby. We stopped calling one another. I would see you in chat; stick around for a few polite minutes then leave. It ate away at me. I was slowly dying on the inside. I had lost the centre of my world and she didn’t even know it. Now the intelligent thing to do right then would have been to pick up the phone and tell you how I was feeling, let you reassure me, talk it through. But I had deluded myself that I had to leave you alone so as not to poison your decision making (how fucking stupid and lame that looks on the written page!). I was riddled with emotion, love, passion, anguish, pain, loss, confusion, depression; words can’t begin to describe how I was feeling. All the while you were blissfully unaware. I was desolate.

Now I had rebuffed my future wife on numerous occasions, I’d never given her even the slightest consideration; I’d never even had to think about it, she was just not on my radar. I continued to rebuff her but my suffering knew no end. I needed to know what was going on; I needed some kind of resolution. Again looking at it now why I just didn’t pick up the phone I will never be able to properly say. What I can say is that I was distraught and looking for a way out. I took the coward’s way. I hit self destruct and took comfort from her. In my deluded way at least I would have an answer, even if it wasn’t the decision I was looking for. Where was the smart guy then? He had become an irrational fool and left the building.

There is no way she wouldn’t have known how I felt about you. She was just there and did what she did. God knows what lies I told myself to make me believe it was real. I knowingly projected all my hopes and dreams for us on to her. She turned out to be not even a poor facsimile. I relived our time together through her, it didn’t even come close. You have already heard me talk about the wedding as if you needed that point illustrated, but let me give you another. I remember on one of our many long and loving conversations we talked about me not having a driver’s license. I remember saying well I will have to go get one and you making some suitable smart arse comment mocking me. But I also clearly remember stating that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you or your kids and I couldn’t help because I couldn’t drive. I distinctly remembering deciding right there and then that I was going to get my license, so that’s what I did. I hadn’t thought about that for years but it all came flooding back to me when I was speaking to you from my car today.

We recently talked about me following what little of your life I could find on line, hoping you were happy and me living vicariously through that happiness. Well I was living the dreams I had for us vicariously through her. What a cluster fuck that was. There was only ever one and it was never her, it was you.

So there you have it, I married the wrong woman because I couldn’t control my anguish at the possibility of losing you. I was, and probably still am, an emotional retard that had an easy answer within his reach and totally failed to see it was there. I destroyed your life, my own life and probably even some of her life (but for a multitude of reasons I find it hard to show her much empathy).

I know it’s not much of an explanation and it probably doesn’t give you the answers you are looking for. You will be able to pick it to pieces (and rightly so) but it’s as I remember it. The facts have become blurry but the emotions are still as raw as they were at the time.

Thank you for tracking me down, once again I was the coward. There is no way however I could have intruded into your life after what I had done. I could only ever be invited back in and can’t thank you enough for extending that invitation. It has given me the chance to hear your laughter, share some of the joy, along with some of the tears (even though I was responsible for many of them). If reading this incites your rage and hatred, and anger starts to consume you I get it, I deserve nothing less. If I never hear from you again you have given me the chance to get some closure, which is more than I thought I would ever have and certainly more than I am entitled to. I wish you every happiness for your future my darling, I hope you and your children live a long, fulfilling, prosperous and healthy lives.

 

Sir

©2013 Darling and Sir

Purge

Sometimes new information brings up old feelings, and I just needed to vent.

 

I knew about her when we first met

But you assured me I was the one

Then you changed your mind and looked elsewhere

You were through with me; you were done

.

How fast you fell into her arms

It was cruel of you to gloat

I wasn’t aware it was a game

She won – you had to boast

.

My heart in shatters I walked away

My feelings to preserve

I must confess the way I feel now

You both ended up with whom you deserved

.

By Darling ©2013 TSL

Supplanted

Dear Sir,

I remember you telling me about her before you and I even met. I asked you if there was conflict in your heart. I told you that I would not stand in your way if she was your true desire. You reassured me she was not; you hadn’t even dated her. You loved me, and wanted to be with me. She didn’t compare to what we had. She was an annoyance and nothing more.

She was relentless in her pursuit and interest towards you. You just wanted me to be aware of her because you wanted to be honest and open. I admired that about you. I believed you. I trusted you.

I was a fool.

Painfully,

Darling

©2013 Darling and Sir