To hear Darling and Sir read their letters please click on the greetings.

Play SymbolMy Dearest Sir,

I am not a perfect woman, but I perfectly love you.

I have no problem being the first one to admit that I’m wrong. I will freely apologize. I will instantly forgive you – which doesn’t mean I won’t get angry or hurt, but I will forgive and get over it in time (the quicker the better). I will support you in all you do and say. I will worry and fret over you.

I accept your opinions even when they disagree with mine; consequently, I will cherish our differences.

I will never take for granted our friendship. Loving someone is easy; liking them is harder. I have a whole lot of like for you. And, my unequaled Sir, I trust you.

I will love you forever.

Irrefutably yours,



Play Symbol

My Dearest Darling

No one in this life is perfect, particularly not me. How boring life would be if we were.

I make plenty of mistakes my love, and I will continue to do so. I am human after all. Sadly some of those mistakes will be at your expense, our expense. For that I am truly sorry.

Yes we have our differences. I don’t mean arguments but our outlooks on life. I have no desire to change you or to expect any modification in your behaviour. I am happy to accept you for who ever you are.

You are right, love is easy in comparison to friendship. You can’t control love but you can certainly work on a friendship. The thing that I hated the most when I lost you (and there were many I hated ) was that I no longer had my best friend. One of the first things I noticed when you re established contact was how easily we slipped back into that pattern of sharing confidences on just about everything. I had my best friend back. That alone was worth a bank full of bullion.

But there was also trust, much trust. I feel unworthy knowing I betrayed it. There is the same trust again now. It astounds me. I won’t betray it again.

Loving You Unequivocally

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir


That Damn Noise

My Sweetest Sir,

We’ve discussed the first night I was in Australia, and that damn, horrible noise that woke me up after I finally drifted off into dreamland. We were so baffled at what it could be, and I love you that you believed me straight away (even though it didn’t rear its ugly head again until later).

I am giggling here, because I know you’re cringing. I can’t even clearly recall exactly when, but I do know where it was discovered.

I want to back up a bit and set up a premise before the final unveiling of that damn noise. When my daughter was born, my mother lovingly refinished a beautiful, antique, wooden rocking chair and gave it to me. I love that rocking chair, and I still have it today. While I rocked my baby to sleep, that charming chair creaked in tune with my rocking. Instead of being annoying, those creaks lulled my baby to sleep.

Now with that idea set, I’m not even sure how to continue explaining the damn noise (I can’t type noise without the damn adjective. It’s fitting.) I know you were in bed waiting for me as I was doing my nightly ritual (wash face, brush teeth, etc.), when I heard that damn noise. I rushed into your room and said, “That’s the noise! What was that?”

You stared at me, still not sure what that damn noise was. Then you got up to investigate for me. My eyes got wide. Problem solved.

Mischievously yours,


p.s. I left that damn noise unsaid, so you can do the honors.


My Sleep Disturbed Darling

Let’s cut to the chase. The noise? It was the creaks given off by the floor boards under my bed. Every time I rolled over or moved they groaned. The house was under renovation and the piers had not been reblocked yet.

You didn’t seem to mind when you were helping with the creaking!

Noisily Yours

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

First Night Part 2

My Dear Virile Sir,

That first night was much more than making love; you had started to Uncover me.

After hearing the hideous noise that kind of freaked me out, you came into the spare room to sit with me and ease my mind. Neither of us had any preconceived notions. You truly were (and are) a gentleman.

You lay by my side. Your face was so full of concern for my well-being. I remember you reached out and rubbed my arm offering me comfort. Your hand came up to caress my face. You traced my lips with your finger.  I automatically turned my face towards yours, and your head came down. Your lips gently rubbed against my own – feeling and exploring. I felt you smile against them. It was the most unhurried, beautiful kiss. We loved to rub our lips together.

My tongue naturally came out and stroked your bottom lip from one corner of your mouth to the other. I felt your intake of breath and your soft groan. It exhilarated and excited me. You told me that you have committed to memory the feel of my hand on the back of your head and my fingers running through your hair.  I also remember running my tongue along your jaw line to your ear Sir, which I lightly sucked.  I kissed your cheek, your neck, and your lips again. I nibbled on and owned your bottom lip.

I vividly remember pushing you onto your back and kissing your chest so I could feel your heart beat against my mouth. It was racing under my touch. Your hands were in my hair as you arched. I lost it. I loved kissing your neck; I craved your skin.

You loved my burgundy toes. You kissed them and my feet and ankles and up my legs. If I thought your eyes glowed earlier, that was nothing compared to how they smoldered now. They blazed into mine kindling my passion and making me blush.

I don’t even recall when I became aware of your hand stroking my bare leg. Those long fingers that so beautifully play the piano lovingly played my body. The music we made was pure and raw. I couldn’t lie still. I even remember telling you that I loved your long fingers.

There are four words you said to me at that time – four words that made me pause. I misunderstood at first. Your eyes were fiery and staring into mine as you realized my confusion. You quickly cleared up my doubt then made up for it tenfold. I’m still a bit chagrin realizing my misinterpretation. I have never forgotten those words. I never will. You touched me. You branded me and made me yours.

I can see you looking down at me. You weren’t smiling, but there was so much heady emotion in your features. I responded to you, and your eyes rolled back into your head. I can still see that look.  I can feel my body reacting to the memories even now after all these years. It hasn’t waned one tiny bit.

Intensely yours,



My Luscious Darling

I never thought I would need to reply to such an intimate letter in such a public place. You have chosen your words so very carefully. It is almost as if you have thrown down the gauntlet.

That hideous noise was my blessing and my curse. You were so obviously concerned, and I so obviously flummoxed as to its cause that I thought you may never rest.

If I saw this tale unfold elsewhere my cynic’s radar would be in overdrive. “A noise?” “Rubbing your arm.” “Tracing your lips.” Then of course the “kiss.” If I hadn’t been there myself, I would suspect the careful planning of a seasoned “player.” The fact is that it was as you tell it. It wasn’t planned. It was a moment in time, both pure and real. I look back on it now and these circumstances make it even more surreal and most certainly more beautiful.

I remember you kissing me, then sucking my bottom lip. But what I remember the most was the ease of our coupling. My hand between your legs as I teased them apart. My tongue running from your ankle to your thigh then to places far beyond.  I loved to run my hand down the length of your leg, holding us together, as I gazed into your frantic eyes.

I too remember those four words. Your passion and excitement were like nothing else. I was in awe of what your body did. That I could confuse you at such a defining moment truly mortifies me. I was full of nothing but admiration, adoration, and love. You amazed me then and I will never forget. 

We had spent eighteen months waiting for our time to arrive. You were in my home, we shared a bed, and then we shared one another.  There was fire, there was passion and there was a real dynamic sexual tension. But above all else though, there was respect and there was love.

I love you my Darling, more now than ever. I must finish with the word’s that are a somewhat over quoted and a little bittersweet. The words are from Alfred Lord Tennyson poem In Memoriam. “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Well I have loved you my Darling and you have loved me.

Sensuously Yours

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir


Darling’s poem she wrote for Sir not long after leaving Australia.


Deep inside my heart is a place that I thought was lost

I hid it, because it was more than I wanted to bear

I didn’t understand the price I paid, nor did I count the cost

I thought I was alone; no one to share

I didn’t realize the vital, missing piece

Was a part of me that couldn’t be duplicated or replaced

Neglecting myself was leaving me damaged and incomplete

A small but significant void – an an empty space

A hand reached out and helped me off the ground

I stood once again and wondered how you knew

Uncovered – that hidden place was found

You gave me back myself –  from somewhere inside of you


By Darling ©2013 TSL

First Night Part 1

My Dear Loveable Sir,

I’m not even sure how I can write this letter with a straight face, so I won’t fight it. I’m grinning like a Cheshire cat remembering that first night.

My internal body clock was telling me it was time to be up and moving, yet it was night time outside. What I put you through! I had taken a hot shower to wash the away the travelling feeling and to try to relax. You graciously saw me to bed and made sure I had everything I needed. Then you retired to your room to give me privacy and to try to sleep yourself. I was clean and in my pajamas and wide awake!

I am not sure how long I laid there just thinking; you know how my brain doesn’t like to shut down at night. I contemplated where I was and who I was with, and I was still processing it all. I was in Sir’s house, and Sir was in the other room! We had hugged and kissed. I was giddy beyond belief to be certain. I was the princess and pea was across the hallway.

I know I eventually drifted off to sleep, but it felt like I had just barely closed my eyes when the strangest noise awoke me. It wasn’t just because I was in a strange house where I wasn’t used to its sounds; this noise was freaky and a bit scary. After waiting what seemed like ages, I heard it again. I wasn’t sure what I should do. I decided to bite the bullet and go wake the sleeping giant in his lair.

I crossed the hall and softly called your name from the doorway (which you left open so you could hear me in case I needed you). You immediately arose and came to me asking what was wrong. I told you about the noise. You followed me into your spare room and sat with me on the bed. We waited. And we waited. And waited some more. The noise never happened again at least not that night (we figured out what it was another night and that is a story in itself). I am sure you thought I was imagining things at that point, but you were too much of a gentleman to say it out loud. I was feeling a bit foolish by this time anyway.

You decided to lie next to me in my bed and talk to me to soothe my frazzled nerves. I wish I could say that it was all a clever ruse to get you in my bed (ha), but that wasn’t the case at all. You worried and fretted over me. I felt completely protected.

This night is very memorable in more ways than one, and you Sir know why. It was a new chapter of us.

Fervidly yours,



My Jet Lagged Darling

I remember that first night vividly. As you know there are multiple reasons for that, many of which will never grace these pages.

Yes you were standing in my home. My American sweetheart, jet lagged, emotionally charged and incredibly beautiful was here with me. I was a happy man.

You had showered and readied yourself for bed. I knew you were wired, but you clearly needed sleep. I had made up the spare room for you. While I wanted nothing more than to never spend a moment apart from you, I wanted you to feel safe and secure and not be worried by any unwanted demands of your host. You needed a safe place to call your own.

That damn noise, I can’t believe it. If I had known that was all it would take to drive me into your arms, I would have ensured it started a heck of a lot earlier. I am laughing out loud here, because I now know the cause. But at the time I was as perplexed as you were.

Yes I did lay next to you on your bed. It seems like such a contrivance reading it now. I was totally innocent I swear. That first night together, it is seared in my memory. Lying next to you in that darkened room was amazing. I was experiencing a tactile overload. You were mine to touch, kiss, stroke and hold. I could smell you. I could gaze lovingly into your eyes. There is no need to draw a diagram about what logically happened next. Suffice it to say that you never needed to sleep in my spare room again, and you never did.

You were in Australia, in my house and by my side. The next chapter in our incredible journey had well and truly begun.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Smizing Eyes

My Dear Darling Sir, (How’s that for a clever greeting?)

I mentioned your eyes in the letter Touchdown.  I can still see them staring at me, piercing me, and smiling at me. You smile with your eyes. They even have a name for that – smizing. You’re a smizer.

After we arrived at your home that first night, we entered through the front door. You commandeered all my luggage into the spare room you had prepared for me. You recognized how wired I was, and you were so patient. You just stood back while I paced the floors to burn off  nervous energy. While I can’t recall, I wouldn’t be surprised if I were chatting a hundred miles an hour too.

I can remember you were standing at the entrance to your living room, when I walked over and stood in front of you. I looked up into your face, and this next part makes me cringe even though it is crystallized in my mind. I blurted out, “Your eyes glow.” I was mesmerized by your eyes. You smiled at me so sweetly, while I just stared into your eyes. You gazed back. The air sizzled between us. It was an intense moment.  Quite frankly, I’m surprised my knees didn’t buckle right then and there.

It was during this powerful moment when you asked if you could kiss me. I didn’t even answer verbally; I didn’t need to. I reached up with my face and our lips touched and pressed – my hands on your shoulders. The beautiful language of love was silently spoken in such a simple, singular moment. That undemanding kiss was full of promise and passion. We kissed, and time stood still. Your glowing eyes burned into my soul.

Acutely yours,



My Darling Darling (So good they named you twice)

Well again you have me reaching for the dictionary. Not surprisingly it isn’t covered in the Oxford English lexicon but the far more grungy Urban variety. You are so down with the kids. I think I will have to check your closets for skinny jeans and your iPod for indie rock.

So I smize do I? Now that I understand what it means you have paid me quite the compliment. As is often the case I am both humbled and flattered.

Yes its hard to believe I had the spare bedroom ready for your imminent arrival. I was worried that the whole meeting me and being a stranger in a strange land would be a little too much for you, and I wanted you to have your own space to retreat to. I know you didn’t last even the first night, but I always intended to be a gentleman. If you were to visit me tomorrow I would do the same thing yet again.

As for if you babbled, I just don’t remember. What I remember was you being there. Here was this vision, this beautiful creature, my Darling, you. This radiant woman that I loved to the very core of my being. This kindred spirit, who knew me almost as well as I knew myself, was standing in my house amongst my things. The wit, the wisdom, the banter, the belligerence, the mocking, the confidence, the strength, the self assuredness, the indomitable personality. She was here, of her own volition. She was here and she wanted me. Damn right I was smizing, I had much to smize about.

What saddens me is that I cannot remember that first kiss. I remember asking you but for the life of me I don’t recall that most tender of our moments. After all the memories that you have lost, and the many I have helped restore, it is a little galling to not have this one in my data banks. I remember kissing you on many other occasions. We were damn fine kissers, even if I do say so myself. I thoroughly enjoyed kissing you. I long to do it again, repeatedly.

Thank you yet again my darling.

Smizingly Yours

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir

Guy Smiley

My Dear Smiling Sir,

When you smile, I melt. The world doesn’t know about your dimples. They do now. They are kiss magnets, as are the corners of your mouth. You never understood my fixation with the corners of your mouth. I really can’t say why, but it totally works for me. And don’t get me started on your bottom lip.

I’m feeling a swooning face plant coming on. Catch me.




My Dearest Darling

I adore it that you love my smile, my bottom lip and for that matter my dimples. Having said that you have no idea how uncomfortable it makes me feel to discuss these things. It’s not that I am particularly troubled by how I look, it is just most unusual for me to be discussing it with such candour.

Baby, if you face plant you know I will catch you. The weak part of me wants to cry out “well if my smile is such a kiss magnet get your pretty backside over here and do just that.”  Alas we know that won’t happen anytime soon.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

P.S. I had no idea who Guy Smiley was before seeing your title. I had to Google his name. He looks like a dodgy second hand car salesman: light grey slacks, white shirt, red tie and blue blazer. I really hope it is just the smile you are comparing me too? Smiles.

©2013 Darling and Sir


My Dear Sir,

I’ve worked hard, and I’ve accomplished many goals throughout my life. I feel completely confident in myself. I’ve earned degrees and awards that are held in high esteem in certain academic circles. I’ve carved out a satisfied niche for myself, but I’ve paid the price for it. That being said, I have just come to realize and recognize something that I need to face. I feel insecure with you, and it’s not a comfortable place to be.

Realistically I understand why I feel this way, but it’s bothering me. I hate that I feel this way. I am almost reluctant to express these emotions. It’s like I have a pebble in my shoe and no matter what I do, I can’t find the source.

I can promise you that I will do everything I can to get over this feeling. It’s vital that I do. I am sorry for yet another flaw in my character.




My Dear Troubled Darling

It pains me greatly to be talking about this. In the fourteen plus years since we last spoke you have done truly astounding things and have much to be proud of. I am a little sad that I was not there to witness your ascent to the summit of those dizzy heights, but I can assure you that it did not surprise me at all to learn of your achievements. Those lofty peaks are where you rightly belong.

To hear you say you feel insecure; well I both understand and I am a little perplexed. I understand because you can only measure me by my actions, which we both know have been far from acceptable. Where I become a little perplexed is that you were the one who reached out to me. I yearned to speak to you again, but I felt I had no right; I was without courage. In the brief time we have been reacquainted, our feelings have become overwhelming and while I cannot deny or hide from my past your insecurity confounds a little.

The pebble in your shoe? I think I know its cause. The last time we spoke, and I mean in 1999, it was me informing you that I had moved on and was with another woman, one whom I went on to disastrously marry. I had no feelings for her previous to this but I know my actions spoke volumes. There are various women in my life now, all of whom I now know platonically and in some cases professionally. There is one with whom I have had a relationship, another who is desperately seeking a relationship and another sending quite mixed messages on the subject. One is married and another in a serious relationship, both institutions you know I respect. The one I did date, well what can I say but we were a failure as a couple. Another is quite a bit younger than me, plus I have received some fairly direct and at other times rather ambiguous texts from these women.  I have relayed all of this to you because that’s the nature of our relationship. I tell you everything. 

It didn’t dawn on me when you first told me about your insecurity that this might be the cause. Sadly though from your perspective I can see that it would be a powerful trigger. Here I am in another country, there are women who may or may not be expressing an interest in me, I have denied any intent but all of your old memories come flooding back.

I am not to going to ply you with empty words but I will say two things to you. Firstly you know I am in a position to literally drop everything and be with you in a day. We have both agreed that I will not do that for reasons which will not be divulged. If however you change your mind, just send me a signal and I am there. I will purchase an open ended ticket right now and await your consent.

Secondly, while I know you understand the work I have put in to establish these professional arrangements, I will end them tomorrow with no questions asked if that will assuage your fears.

I stupidly gave you up last time for quite inexcusable reasons. I will not make the same mistake twice.

With Quiet Determination

From Sir With Love

P.S. Yes I would like you to get over this feeling but in no way known is your character flawed.

©2013 Darling and Sir

Missing My Mother

My Dearest Darling.

We recently discussed my parents. When we did I mentioned how I missed my mother. I have recounted her demise to you over the phone but a little over two months after she died I embarked on a solo trip around Australia which included the first Mother’s Day I had not been with her. I have another, now inactive blog, which chronicled that trip. Below is the only post I wrote that wasn’t published. This is the first time I have read it in eighteen months and the emotion is still quite raw. It does however best describe how I miss my mother.

It’s quite a sad day for me today, my first Mother’s Day without mum. In late January of 2012, I spent 4 days at a mountain lodge near the Barrington Tops in rural New South Wales, Australia. I drank too much wine and whisky and just vegged out. On the day of my return I found that my 89 year old mother had suffered a fall and needed to be hospitalised. I put her in the local hospital on Friday 27th January 2012 and she died in the early hours of Wednesday 8th February 2012, 4 days short of her 90th birthday. I went from organising her birthday party to organising her funeral.

Mum suffered from dementia, which a hideous disease that wastes the brain. In the end she could do very little for herself and even lost the ability to speak. It was abundantly clear that she wasn’t well when I returned from my break. Watching your own mother waste away in a sterile hospital has nothing to commend it. She fought the process the whole way. She kicked and abused the ambulance officers, the nurses, the doctors and the other staff. I was the worst son in the world for subjecting her to all of this. I think she said to me in a moment of lucidity that she hoped I had daughters, implying that sons were no good at all. It quickly became evident that there were no meaningful treatment options and that all we could do was make her comfortable and manage the pain.

“Managing the Pain” became the new mantra. When it comes to someone’s death the staff at the hospital can’t come out and say it, but in effect it is their code for euthanasia. In the circumstances and when carried out ethically it is something that I fully support. Now my mother was against euthanasia, we had discussed it at length on a number of occasions. In particular we discussed it in relation to my dad (who had died 8 years earlier). So I knew she wanted to fight. But, when there were no meaningful treatment options available “managing the pain” became the only option. When presented with “suffer and die slowly with pain” or “suffer and die a little faster but with managed pain” it really ceases to be a choice. No one actually tells you that “managing the pain” is essentially medicating someone to death, you have to figure that out for yourself. And even when you have it figured it is still up to the individual hospital staff to participate in this secret society. Some would not partake at all. One quite literally told me that they would “let nature take it’s course.” Others could be described as being more proactive.

My mother started refusing all food and drink, which was hideous to watch. I learnt at this time that tube feeding someone was not really an option. Apparently it stops the body from producing the endorphins it needs to manage its own pain and causes agony to the patient. There was however one nurse (who had worked in a dementia facility in Adelaide) she was excellent. She actually managed to get mum to eat small amounts of food (a teaspoon of puréed fruit is what I mean by small). However it was a futile effort, my mother had decided to check out. About four days before she died she got significantly worse. She was moved into a private room at the end of a ward. They had done the same thing with dad. He was moved into the “dying room” and it was in mum’s dying room that I now ate, showered and slept. Mum became totally vegetative only moving when the nurses turned her as part of their schedule. All the while (depending on the vagaries of the staff) we continued to “manage the pain.”

The last hours of her life were spent with her gasping for breath. She emitted this most hideous rasp; it is one of the most sickening sounds I have ever heard. It was once described to me as a “death rattle” but until I had heard myself I didn’t truly understand what was meant.  In this last hour the senior nursing staff were of the “nature takes it course” school of thought. But after 40 minutes of mum’s sickening breathing I had to do something, I buzzed for help and blessedly there had been a change in shift (you can lose track of time when you move into hospital.) The new nursing staff came in and saw (and heard) my mother’s condition. She was clearly in great distress and a lot of pain. The more senior of the two looked me in the eye and said she could “manage the pain.” She said it in a way that conveyed a far greater meaning than just the words. Five minutes later, as I was stroking my mother’s hair, holding her hand and telling her that I loved her, she died. The pain had been managed and I had become an orphan. I miss my mother terribly but there is no way I would have her back in anything like the condition she was in. It was her time. I cannot thank the staff at the hospital enough for their compassion and understanding.

Happy Mother’s Day Mum.

So there you have it my Darling. I did it all alone and made the most hideous yet most compassionate decision of my life.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love


My Dear Compassionate Sir,

This makes my heart ache for you. I know how much you loved your mother, and I know how much your mother adored you. I am so sorry you went through this alone. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you. I would have stood by your side and helped. You would not have carried that burden alone.

I loved your mother too. I truly did. She was your mother, and I thank her for you. I am happy to say I knew her.

I don’t equate pain management as euthanasia especially when that person is having their last moments on Earth. I think the medication just took away her pain and allowed her to pass into the next life peacefully. You were and are a superior son.

I love you.


©2013 Darling and Sir