Touchy Feely

My Dear Sir,

Do you remember how often my hands would stray to your hair? I couldn’t help myself. I loved running my fingers through it. I was always waiting for you to tell me that I did it too much; you never did though. You never complained once.

Many times while you were playing the piano for me, I would get up and stand behind you at the bench. I would massage your shoulders and neck. My fingers played with your hair. I rubbed your ears. I loved touching you. I was constantly doing it. You’d lean your head back against my shoulder and close your eyes while playing. That’s when I’d kiss your forehead and face.

My hand would wander to the back of your neck while in the car as well. It was very calming to me to touch you while driving during a long, barren stretch of road. As you stated in “Driving” your hand was always on my knee. I think we found comfort in touching each other.

There were also the few times my hand found its way to your hair during dinner if we were sitting next to each other as opposed to across the table. You’d always take my hand in yours after a while and start to kiss it while staring into my eyes. Good grief Mr. Sir you would make me melt. I can still feel your lips on my fingertips.

It’s a wonder we ever left our rooms, but I suppose we needed to eat once in a while. Oh, and get some fresh air. I wasn’t worried about the exercise though; we got plenty of that.

Lovingly and touchingly yours always,

Darling

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My Tactile Darling

I do remember how much you touched me. It was a thrill every time. From that first hug at the airport, to holding your hand in the cab on the way home to our first kiss in my home later that evening. Oh how we touched.

When I played the piano? Well I am not sure how I restrained myself and if truth be told on more than one occasion I clearly did not. Your hand in my hair was the most devilish distraction. How could I hope to play?

My hand on your leg whilst driving? I could not forget that. I remember the first time I did it you exclaimed that you may not be able to concentrate. I didn’t move it an inch. It remained firmly in place for our entire time together. Your hand running through my hair as we drove; well I remember that as well. Its a wonder we even made it out my driveway.

I think what I loved best though about touching you in public (I trust you note the distinction I have made here) was holding your hand and staring into your eyes. I was like a man drowning in a sea of ecstasy.

I long to touch you again; to hold you, smell you, taste you and love you. 

I can still feel you now.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

©2013 Darling and Sir

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Rueful Eve

Dear Sorrowful Sir,

On this recent Christmas Eve (early your Christmas morning), I fell apart on you while we were talking on the phone. A bit of old hurt cropped up and spewed forth due to something you were saying.  You were discussing your marriage. You had stated how bad the last couple of years of your marriage had been but specifically how your last year was really awful.  I questioned if any of it had been good. You responded that the first year you two were together you had been very physically intimate; in other words, you two had sex a lot. A. Lot.  I felt like you had slapped me.

I compared my first year after you, and that’s where we completely differed. I wasn’t physically intimate with anyone as I struggled to trust and feel again. I remarked that I guess that’s the difference between men and women. I shut down; you fucked around (pardon my language). I guess to a man a lot of sex makes something good.

I can’t even remember the first Christmas after you. You told me about yours in detail.

I am ashamed of this letter.

Remorsefully yours,

Darling

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My Dear Upset Darling

What a Christmas phone call that was. We’ve discussed many things upon reconnecting, included in that has been a reasonably thorough dissection of my marriage.  I know you don’t take pleasure from my misery but you have asked the hard questions and I have tried to provide accurate answers.

Firstly I do remember that first Christmas without you. I remember meeting my future mother in law for the first time. She back handed me on the stomach and told me I could afford to lose a little of that. I vividly recall my barbed response and how it set the tone of our relationship (in good news however it showed her son in law and her future daughter in law that she could be stood up to and put in her place when she decided to be controlling and rude.) I also remember the awful gifts I received (a pair of boxer shorts with some other guy’s name on them and a cheap bottle of souvenir port that was clearly being re gifted.) These were both courtesy of my future mother in law as well. She hadn’t met me until that day but she had already decided that she wasn’t going to like me.

I am truly sorry that I took away your Christmas memories. That was never my intent and was clearly a by-product of my despicable behaviour.

In terms of the amount of sex I had with my ex wife I should point out that it was at your behest that I tried to quantify it. I didn’t gloat, I didn’t dwell on it and I certainly didn’t take any pleasure in telling you as I knew there would be hurt. I was however not going to lie to you about it. I have told you when we’ve talked and quite possibly elsewhere in this blog that I tried to turn her into you. It doesn’t bear repeating but that was an abject failure, doomed from the start. Yes I slept with her and no doubt at the relationship’s beginning we fornicated to our heart’s content. I did not however sleep around. I went from having one partner, you, to another partner, her. What galls me though is that you shut down and that I denied you the right to seek pleasure for yourself. Again my Darling I am truly sorry.

I don’t think these words will grant you any comfort but nor will I try to hide behind a veil of half truths or lies of omission. We did have a fabulous Christmas phone call later in the day and also again on your Christmas Day therefore I hope you can draw pleasure from those.

You have no need of remorse.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Merry Christmas From Darling and Sir

My Dearest Sir,

I simply adore you. I am also very proud of your abilities. I love when you play the piano. I love watching and hearing you. I want others to be able to get a glimpse of how truly talented you are – just a glimpse mind you hence the inserted clip art at times you are fully visible. You’re still entitled to your privacy.

I cherish you, my love. I always have.

Forever yours,

Darling

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My Lyrical Darling

I loved to play the piano for you. I look at the video and adore that you love it. I still have trouble being objective though. I can see its faults. You know I play a lot of improvisational jazz, blues and rock material. Virtually none of that is showcased here. I am being self critical I know, but I consider that style to be my greatest strength. I have said it before but all the effort that went into making the videos including practice, time and money was undoubtedly worth it. It led you back to me.

I Love You My Darling

Merry Christmas

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Rejoining The World

My Dearest Darling

As you are no doubt most painfully aware I went on to marry the woman whom I abandoned you for. It turned out to be an unmitigated disaster. My divorce was as acrimonious as you could make it. I was the recipient of a number of physical threats from people I believe to be family and friends of my ex wife.  

While all of this was happening I was forced to wind up a business that had my ex wife as a director as I was not in a position to buy her out. I had left my chosen field some years earlier so could not easily return to it at the same level at which I departed. For a small period, while settling up the affairs of my failed marriage, I looked to be without a home or a job. Now I don’t want to make that sound overly dramatic. I was not going to be homeless or unemployed. I was just left with a little time to kill before I could move on with my life. I decided that I would spend six weeks with my aging mother.

Well we both know that six weeks turned into six years. I reorganised my life to care for her. It was not really until her death, four days shy of her 90^th birthday, that I was able to give serious consideration to what I would now do with my own life. I was now living in a modest country town. What were once vineyards and dairy farms are now coal mines and power generating plants. I no longer had a business and any semblance of a career was now in shreds. I had taken work well below my station, as it was the only available where I now resided, and I was many hours away from a substantial urban centre where I could hope to re-establish my life.

My mother had left a small inheritance and so I decided that I would use that money to strike out in a new direction, even if it was an old familiar path. I decided to try and establish, once more, a career in music. It was something I had always enjoyed but, for reasons that were never really clear to me, I had given it up to pursue seemingly more lofty goals. I have never had delusions of rock stardom, or classical grandeur. I am at my happiest just playing the piano, in a convivial room, surrounded by the vibe of dynamic people all having a great time.

With that in mind and with the need to drag myself kicking and screaming into the 21^st century I went into a recording studio to play some demo tracks. I also engaged a professional videographer to shoot some footage allowing me to put together a number of professional film clips by way of introduction to my services.  So in late December of 2012, I recorded eight tracks of me playing various styles of piano music. In mid January of 2013, I shot the video. Then not long after I had my show reels and anyone with an internet connection could find me.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well after my withdrawal from the world I had made myself quite difficult to find. I knew that I would have to remove the veil so to speak. I was putting myself out there for the entire world to see. I consoled myself with one quite simple fact, Darling can now find me. I know it sounds ridiculous. We had not spoken in close to 14 years. But even after all that time I was still thinking of you.

The story is now yours to tell. I do have to say however that the time and money I spent producing those tracks and those videos were the best I’ve ever spent in my life. Why? Because without them you may never have found me. I love you my Darling. I always have. Thank you. Thank you for your forgiveness, your understanding and most of all your love. But thank you also for still searching after all of these years and for having the courage to send that first text message which has drawn us so inextricably together once more.

 

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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My Sweet Sir,

Sometimes I cannot wrap my head around the belief that you still thought of me, since you were the one who ended everything. It’s not that I don’t believe what you say – of course I do – it’s just that I had believed the opposite for so long that I don’t know how to change my thought process. I suppose it will take time.

I felt (and still feel) anger and sadness in knowing that you gave up playing the piano for such a long time because of your unhappiness. You told me that your ex wife used to present you like a show pony, and that it turned you off to play. That makes me ill. What a waste of a beautiful talent; consequently, I am ecstatic that you’ve resumed your playing. The world deserves to hear your gift. The fact that your published your videos on the web with even the slightest thought that I could possibly find you – astounds me completely.

I know I had sporadic thoughts of you over the years, but they were so painful I didn’t dwell on them. If memory serves, during our last phone call I believe you informed me that you had moved. You didn’t offer your new contact information, nor did I ask for it. Your purposeful intent didn’t go unnoticed; you didn’t want me to have it. I had my pride.

I know I put your name in an online search engine in the past 2 or so years, but I didn’t look very deeply. I was too scared to, so it was just a superficial, cursory search. Even if by chance I had found you, I do not believe that I would have acted upon it at the time.

I briefly mentioned in the letter Vicariously Yours, the path that led me to you. I will quote from it now:

I found you quite unexpectedly. I sat and stared at the web page not daring to believe it was really you; it was my Sir (although I would never have dared to address you as my Sir). I found videos of you playing the piano. My heart constricted and held tight. I couldn’t breathe. I clicked play and was instantly transported to years gone by. I replayed it over and over again. I searched your face. I drank in your hands and your fingers. I stared at your hair remembering how it lay against your neck. I didn’t know how to feel or think. I didn’t know what to say or do. I kept any real emotions under strict lock and key.  I felt a myriad of sensations -a vortex that spun my world around and kicked my feet out from under me.

Then I found those numbers. They mocked me from the page. There was a way to contact you! Was it really that simple? In today’s world I could text you. Did I want to? I was so confused. I purposely did not react for days. After the reality set it, I concluded that I wasn’t scared to contact you anymore. I had disassociated from that emotion. Once I realized and accepted that schism, I was ready.

So my dear Sir, you stated you felt that organizing and producing those videos were worth it, because they made it possible for me to locate you. Your instinct was spot on. I can never fully express how seeing you made me feel. I know relief was one of the bigger emotions.

Here we are taking it one day at a time. Hold my hand, Sir, hold my hand.

Adoringly yours,

Darling

©2013 Darling and Sir

Short clips of Sir’s piano videos will be posted on Christmas Day (United States time)!

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The Lost Purse

My Greenbacked Darling

One of the many places we went to whilst you were in my country was the Sydney Tower Restaurant, of which there are two. We of course dined at the nicer one. It had full table service and a much better selection of wine. Quite literally everywhere you look has truly amazing views. We had window seats as we dined at sunset.

You got to see all of Sydney by day then watched the harbour come to life as the sun went down and then the city lights danced among the gently rippling waves. Even though it was a revolving restaurant the food was quite good and the ever changing scenery made for some truly spectacular sights. It was made all the more special by the fact that I could gaze across the table into your mesmerising dark brown eyes.

A funny thing happened though. You put your purse on a ledge. The restaurant revolved and your purse was gone! Before we really had time to panic a slightly smirking waiter returned it with supercilious smile. Crisis averted. I was way too distracted to notice your purse. My beautiful city with my beautiful woman, what more could a man ask for?

Besottedly Yours

From Sir With Love

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My Romantic Sir,

I loved going to that restaurant with you. The sights were amazing, but the vision across from me was even more so. I loved being on your arm in public.

I remember when we first met (before we met in person), you asked me to describe the color of my eyes. I told you that one person had told me that they were the color of root beer in the sun. When you first gazed in my eyes (in person), you remarked that ‘root beer in the sun’ was a very apt description. I have no idea how much time was spent just staring at each other. I never complained. It was one of my favorite pastimes.

I will never forget going to get something out of my purse only to find it gone. The waiter admitted that it happened all the time, and they were prepared. I thought it was funny after my heart stopped racing. We laughed about it later. A lot.

Gazing-ly yours,

Darling

 

©2013 Darling and Sir

 

Wake Up Call

My Dear Somnolent Darling

We seem to be talking quite a bit about sleep lately (or lack thereof.) We spent a night (or two?) staying in Caves House at the beautiful Jenolan Caves. Apart from the absolute awe and wonder of the natural beauty to be found, two other events stick in my mind. Firstly there was the inadequacy of the room we were offered and secondly there was that wake up call.

You had been doing all the driving, as we have previously discussed. The road down to the caves is both narrow and bendy. By the time we arrived you were feeling a little nauseous and car sick. You bravely soldiered on but you needed to nap. We checked in, then went to our room. There were no curtains or blinds. You were not impressed and rightly so.

Caves House, as the hotel we stayed in is known, has been through its ups and it’s downs. Sadly when we visited it was on the way down again. I was quite looking forward to showing you the stunning Waterford crystal chandelier that graced their reception area. In a moment of culture vandalism they had obviously recognised it’s value and replaced with a brass and glass number that would be more fitting in a tasteless Hollywood mansion owned by Tori Spelling. Having said all that it really would be a hard hotel to run. It is a good hours drive from the nearest town of any size along a pretty hair raising road. There is no other reason to come and stay except to visit the caves and the staff would need to live on site. I am not making excuses just pointing out the logistical nightmare of running such a remote venue.

I presented myself at the concierge desk (there being no phones in the rooms and no mobile reception at the site) and was grudgingly assigned another room. I also booked a wake up call, or what passed for one at the venue, for 6.00am. This is when everything was forgiven.

The next morning at about the appointed time there was a firm knock at the door and a staff member calling our names. “Mr and Mrs Sir, Mr and Mrs Sir, this is Mandy from reception. This is your wake up call, can you confirm for me that you’re awake?” Well my heart was singing. It was clearly obvious to all that Darling and Sir were husband and wife. We spent the rest of your trip my Darling as just that.

Yours In Matrimonial Bliss

From Sir With Love

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My Dear Adventurous Sir,

I remember Jenolan and the Caves House very well. I was looking forward to arriving, getting to our room, and just snuggling up next to you on the bed and resting. As I looked at the picture you posted, I recognize the windows to the right edged in green. One of those windows was our first room.

I remember walking into that beautiful room and exclaiming over the missing curtains and blinds. I was feeling so poorly at this point, that you insisted that I lie down while you went to the front desk to sort things. I vaguely recall you waking me up to change rooms. You had to literally help me up and walk. I feel bad I was such a burden that first night. After I rested for a short time, we did wander down to see the caves. You watched me closely and kept saying how pale I looked. Luckily it passed.

I was disappointed that they had removed the chandelier you had told me about. The place was beautiful still, and had such a quaint aura about it. It was here, at the Caves House where I heard my first kookaburra. That made me happy. Thank you so much for taking me to this serene place. There is still another tender memory that I recall there, but I shall write about it at a later time.

I remember that wake up call. I can still feel my face freezing in surprise when we were addressed by Mr. and Mrs. Sir. I whispered to you, “Did they really just say that?”  You were grinning so hard, I’m surprised you could answer. You were absolutely thrilled. I was too once I got over the shock.

Espousing-ly yours,

Darling

©2013 Darling and Sir

The First Cut is the Deepest

My Dear Smooth Sir,

I will never forget when you borrowed my razor. This wasn’t just a disposable, cheap razor either; It was one where the blades were changed once dull.

I had left it in the shower, and you spied it. Curiosity got the better of you and you tried it on your face. It seems you were rather taken with it and the closeness of the shave it gave you. The problem was you neglected to tell me that you had used it, so the next time I attempted to shave with it I gave myself a rather nasty cut. I cried out, and you hurried into the bathroom to see what the matter was, only to find my leg a bloody mess.

You were very sheepish when you confessed to using it. I forgave you, and you made it up to me. I’m sure a leg has never been kissed as much as you kissed mine to make the cut heal quickly.

Limb-ly yours,

Darling

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My Dear Hirsute Darling

How could I have caused you such an injury? What callous and thoughtless behaviour on my part.

I am sure I was just being lazy. I needed to shave. Your razor was in close proximity. Viola, problem solved.

To think I damaged a leg, your leg. The very thing I loved to run my hand along from your ankle to your waist. I was, and still am, aghast. No doubt it did provide me with a close shave. It just wasn’t fully equipped to deal with the coarseness of my facial hair.

I still feel more than a little sheepish for doing this. I don’t remember the forgiveness kisses. No doubt they were epic.

Clean Shavenly Yours

From Sir With Love

Scottish Dining

My Mouth Watering Darling

It was not all fine dining and gueridon service. Sometimes when we were in a hurry we partook of fast food, one of the great exports from your country to the rest of the world. There is a moment in time still fresh in my memory. Specifically a staff member struggling with the name of a fairly basic menu item. This favourite memory occurred as we dined at that fine Scottish establishment, beloved by the entire world. It has retina destroying yellow and red signage, bright migraine inducing lighting and such uncomfortable plastic furniture that the Marquis de Sade would take notes. I speak of none other than McDonalds .

When we were at Mickey D’s, as it is affectionately called here, you wanted some ketchup and the poor serving girl had no idea what that meant. I remember being a little surprised. Ketchup is not what we call it here but American popular culture has permeated our own so I assumed that everybody would still know what it was. By this time we were already seated, but you returned to the counter to get your extra. I remember you walking up to me with this strange expression on your face: it was part amusement, befuddlement and annoyance. I laughed as you explained your dilemma and advised you to ask for “tomato sauce.” You did as suggested and happily returned, not before having the last word though I might add.

Your dalliance with the previously unheard menu items, even at this most familiar of establishments, I will leave for you to tell.

Would You Like Fries With That?

From Sir With Love

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My Brogue-ish Sir,

I daresay we only dined once at the garish Mickey D’s. I had seen a sign for a “McFeast,” and I asked you what it was. I had never heard of a McFeast, and we’ve never had them in the United States (before or since). You told me that you would get one for me to try, and in we went. I just remember that it had shredded carrots on it, but I don’t recall what else. I also had my first sweet potato fries. Australia was ahead of my corner of the world with a menu of healthier choices. Kudos

When we took our food to the table, I decided that I wanted KETCHUP for my fries. I went back to the front counter and asked for some. The girl looked at me strangely and didn’t oblige. I walked back to you confused. You saw the look on my face and asked me what was wrong. I informed you that the employee didn’t seem to know what KETCHUP was when I asked for it. You laughed and told me to go back and ask for “tomato sauce” (pronounced to-mah-toe sauce) which I did. She handed me packets of KETCHUP and I made sure she knew it. Don’t even get me started on fry sauce (go ahead and Google it).

You were still laughing when I returned with my KETCHUP, and still couldn’t believe the girl didn’t know what KETCHUP was. There’s no accounting for a vast vocabulary bank.

Saucily yours,

Darling

 

©2013 Darling and Sir

A Gift of Love

My Dear Sincere Sir,

You are currently in the land of Nod, and that warms my heart. I could not let this opportunity pass me by though; I needed to express my thanks to you. I apologize ahead of time for posting my second letter sans your reply. You still have the option to respond of course (when you wake), but that will be up to you.

As you know, yesterday I went to my mailbox to discover a package from you. I saw your handwriting on the parcel and that brought back a myriad of memories and feelings in itself. The mail person had wedged the package in tight, and I struggled to remove it. Finally a neighbor offered his assistance, and after considerable exertion he was able to extract it from that blasted box. I was worried that whatever was in the package was damaged; alas, it survived admirably. All is well.

My heart was full as I carefully unwrapped the package, because I knew that you had touched and handled it. I took a few moments just to let that sink in – Sir has touched this.

Upon opening the parcel, my hands shook when I saw what it was. I read your card, and I was overcome with emotion. When you wrote, “To my Darling – I think we can do better than a spiral bound notebook” it made me laugh then cry. You know how much I write. You remembered that I have copious notebooks filled with my writing. You have always been so thoughtful and thorough. I am deeply touched.

The leather journal is absolutely exquisite. The handmade pages are beautiful, and I am terrified of writing in it (I can hear your reprimand). My first thought was I needed an old-fashioned quill with a bottle of ink to use to write in it, but we both know I would ruin it and get ink all over it and myself. I will find the perfect writing tool. I am not ashamed to admit that I hugged it to my chest for some time while I breathed in the smell of the leather and pages.

I love you so much. I thank you with all my heart.

Always and truly yours,

Darling

©2013 Darling and Sir

Sir’s gift to Darling. Christmas 2013

Siren Song

My Darling

It just gone midnight and my phone screen is still blank. Your ringtone is silent. The clock ticks slowly, and my bed calls gently. Still you do not call. I get anxious, and start to fret. I check my signal, make sure the internet is working; my phone is charged, and all apps are ready and fully functional.

Then I hear it, your siren song. I hope it is your voice, although I love your texts as well. You dissolve my anxiety and my fear.

We are now just shy of being reconnected for three months. I still wait for you to tell me that it’s been nice but now you’ve had enough. I fear the day when my phone no longer rings. I took the very thing away from you. How could I not suspect you may do the same?

Then every night you save me. My phone lights up, a ringtone sounds and your face appears. I hear your voice and feel blissed out and can relax.

“Hi Baby, its great to hear your  voice.”

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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Oh My Dear Sir,

I can hardly believe that it’s been nearly 3 months since we have reconnected. I’m trying to wrap my head around it. You’ve mentioned before how easy it was to get back into a very comfortable pattern; but that’s us – we’ve always been extremely at ease around each other. It’s an incredible feeling. It’s almost too good to be true.

I am sorry you stay up at night to wait for me, but I understand. It’s the same reason I try to wake up extra early – so I can talk to you. There was that instance when you did something out of character and routine for you, and I panicked. We laughed about it later, but at the time I felt very anxious. We are connected on many levels.

Sir, at this point, the only way I will ever be removed from your life is if you tell me goodbye again. The hole in my heart that is trying to mend from the past hurt will never heal properly if that happens. That is the piece of my heart that you own. It is the piece that you uncovered, so it is yours. You are a part of me forever. That will never change.

I distinctly recall a way to ease your tension, my sexy Sir. You’ll just need sturdy furniture.

Lovingly yours – always,

Darling

 

©2013 Darling and Sir