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

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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

The Exposé That Exposed Our Exposition

My Dear Crisp Sir,

I know how you love your clothes newly washed and ironed. Well my dashing Sir, we have been virtually steamed. We have been Freshly Pressed in our corner of the blogosphere world here on WordPress. I am humbled that we were likened to those famous lovers Heloise and Abelard.

Twitter Freshly Pressed

I do find it a tad bit overwhelming, Sir. As you know, sharing our story wasn’t easy for me. I realized what was private and dear to me, may not be to someone else. We opened ourselves up to criticism. Because neither of us are wallflowers, we decided to go for it.

I love you. Period. To me that is the best headline-heart-news ever, and it’s so natural. Thank you for taking this journey with me. There is no one else I would choose to walk down this path with; I adore you immensely.

Freshly Press

Productively yours,

Darling

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My Corresponding Darling

All I can say is what happened while I slept? Here I was in the land of Oz and unbeknownst to me we had been selected to appear on the Freshly Pressed page and voila hundreds more views and dozens more followers. I blame you!

As I woke up groggily, I reached for my phone (as is my want to see what message you may have sent me) and along with one of your more concentrated series of “text bombs” there were close to 200 page views, multiple likes and quite a few comments from the world of WordPress. Now no doubt there would be users of this site for whom those numbers would be quite passé. For me they were extraordinary. I got quite a rush. The hits are still coming.

I should say that the good people at WordPress did give us a heads up by way of email. I must, however, be honest here and admit this out loud; I didn’t check my mail and therefore missed it.

The entire blog was your idea. The concept of letters was your idea. The only refinement I made was to request the right of reply. So here we are my Darling. The Sir Letters has enjoyed its first minor dose of notoriety and we have had a taste of increased visitation along with page views by the hundreds. Would it be crass of me to say I’ve quite enjoyed it?

Being compared to Heloise and Abelard was, quite frankly, astonishing. It is a parallel worth considering, but hopefully we will not be parted for twenty years to then only briefly see one another one last time before we shuffle off this mortal coil. Nor do I hope we need a famous French General’s wife to exhume our remains then rebury us together for all eternity. I have far more immediate and, quite frankly, far more carnal dreams than that.

We have bared our souls to the world and, in the main, the world has not found us wanting. Undoubtedly things will settle back down again, and our friendly little community will continue on. The headlines for me are that you went looking for me, you eventually found me, you still very much love me and I still very much love you. Give me a rooftop to shout it from.

Pressingly Yours

From Sir With love

©2014 Darling and Sir

Unquestionable

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,

Darling

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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

I Honestly Love You

Hello My Darling

I did something tonight while you were asleep that made me think of you. Now that in itself is quite the norm. I mean I have this blog, your blog, our chat logs, our photos, your photos, our memories and our songs.

Now when you bed down each evening I normally don my headphones and take a brisk walk around the local golf course. It clears my head and lets me spend an uninterrupted hour just thinking about you. I choose the golf course because it is the most visually appealing part of town. You know I find my current location a little dreary. I have made some excellent friends here but in the way of cultural diversions I find it a little wanting. Anyway tonight I chose no play list at all. I usually choose one that fits the mood, often based on the tone of our last conversation. I was thinking about one of “our” songs. You only recently told me of its meaning, I confess that I’d forgotten and how I’d poisoned it for you. I’m sure I once knew, but my years are catching up with me darling and my memory is not what it used to be.

Anyway I decided to play it. I needed to see how it felt. I know I played it over and over for you. I know I meant every word of it at the time, and I feel I still do. So I suppose I was wondering several things: How did you feel about me doing that? Do you think you could listen to it again without the rancour? And lastly if you think you could, would you listen to it for me and tell me how you feel?

The song you will of course know. Written by Peter Allen and made famous by Olivia Newton John. None other than “I Honestly Love You.”

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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Lovely Sir,

After reading your letter early this morning, I have pondered on your request all day. I decided to do as you so kindly requested, and I played our old song tonight; I played it many times. I listened to the words, and all the past memories came back with such a force that my heart hurt terribly.  I heard the haunting melody as well as absorbed the meaning and I couldn’t help myself – I wept.  I am not sure what kind of tears they were; I’d like to think cleansing ones, but if I were honest there were bitter and resentful ones mixed in with an aching that was sharp and real.

This song was your anthem to me. I remember watching you play it. My eyes followed your beautiful fingers as they lovingly caressed the piano keys to this tune, then I couldn’t help myself – my eyes were drawn upward to watch your face as you played. You were caught up in the moment of music and love. I was held captive in rapture. I felt what you meant for me to feel. I was in tune to you (sorry for the pun). I ached.

That was taken from me. What was once beautiful withered and died. I abhorred that song when I heard it. I steered clear of it. I turned off the radio if by some slim chance it came on. I couldn’t face reality. Sometimes, as you know, I still can’t; consequently, I am trying. I wonder if I should have refrained from bringing up the subject of this song since you had forgotten, but you have asked me to never hide the truth from you or my feelings. I respect and love you enough to adhere to your wishes.

My hands are even shaking a little as I type this. I know what these words are going to do to your heart as well, and I wish with all my being that I could shield you from yourself.  I am listening to the song as I compose this letter. I am so deeply sorry.

On a positive note (I’d like to end it as such), I feel like I have climbed this ugly mountain. I can see the other side. I like that you played this song again after so many years. I can imagine you playing it, because I had the privilege of seeing that first hand. Thank you for that memory. Hopefully all the bad will be replaced by good. This is such a new road to walk on. Thank you for walking it with me. I honestly love you.

Achingly yours,

Darling

 

©2013 Darling and Sir

Arms Wide Open

My Sweet Sir,

Recently we’ve shared memories and old pictures from our past. You sent one to me that I had forgotten and lost; not surprisingly, it has strongly affected me when I saw it again. It was one of the first photos you emailed me of you (if not the actual first one). You are above Watson’s Bay on a place you dubbed “The Rock.” You are bold and confident with a yellow sweater wrapped around your shoulders looking so debonair. Your arms are spread wide, and the beautiful Sydney skyline is behind you.

I love this picture for what it represented to me in my mind at the time. There you were a tall, dark-haired man whose smile pierced through the screen into my soul. Good grief you were so young and sure. Your open arms seemed to beckon me forward as if welcoming me into your life in a symbolic invitation that I so desperately wanted to accept right then and there, but neither one of us was looking for anything of that nature. Our feelings were just beginning to emerge and our relationship was growing and maturing. We were content to take it slow and enjoy the process of unraveling the mysteries of who we both were.

I could finally connect that rich, deep voice to a face, and it was a perfect match. I remember thinking that if those arms were to wrap around me, I’d never want to leave the safety of their circle. To be hugged and held in those long arms was a fantasy and dream. I escaped to that dream often. I found comfort in it and in you.

We’ve shared many significant hugs that I know will be talked about at some point. I dream of your hug now. I can’t even fathom being held in your arms again.

Yearningly,

Darling

Sir

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My Darling

How truly wonderful that you remember that photo so fondly, I remember when it was taken and the photographer. At the time I had no idea it would become part of your life.  I have a definite memory of emailing it to you however, I had to choose it carefully. I had hit an age and my vanity and ego were a little fragile as somewhat evidenced by my choice. A little paunch had developed and maybe some love handles. The sweater, or jumper as we would call it here, nicely disguised the later of the issues and the front on pose to the camera disguised the other.

The jumper itself holds a special place in my heart. As you are already aware it was hand knitted by my dear old mother. It is one of those things that I treasure. My mother who only left this world a little over eighteen months ago, just 3 days shy of her 90th birthday, would be pleased to know her handiwork still has an admirer. It means a lot to me that you speak of it so warmly. Having said all that I must admit to feeling it to be faintly preposterous that we imbue an inanimate object with such affection. However when you search across the void that is the world wide web you clutch on to every subtlety, every nuance to ensure you garner the very last drop of meaning out of every exchange and intimacy shared.  On a more light hearted note you will be pleased to know that it still fits, even if there is less room to move within the garment itself. 

You are right however when you say that when I sent you that picture it was not an overtly intentional invitation to come join me. We were certainly growing closer, but there were many things that could prevent us from being together, the most obvious being the Pacific Ocean and the 12,600 kilometres that stood, and still stands, so firmly between us. I’d love to think that I was sending you some subliminal message even then. It’s nice to think that you saw it so. You say we were content to take it slow and let the mysteries unravel. I certainly agree with that on an emotional level. But the rational side of us fought that feeling, not hard or particularly well, but there was a fight nonetheless. The fact that we gave in and let our emotions run rampant is a testimony to how strong our bond became.

You say it was your fantasy to be held in those arms. Well it was my fantasy to hold you. You and I both know that we fulfilled both of our fantasies on that particular front. Yes we will talk of that time as this story unfolds. But I must say it saddens me a little to hear you say you cannot fathom being held in my arms again. That is however my cross to bear. As we grow closer through this process, far closer than we have been for many many years. I am inextricably drawn to you; I can’t help but hold on to some utterly unachievable goal that one day we may share that simple pleasure again.

 

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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My Dear Sir,

Unfathomable isn’t impossible, it’s just hard to imagine after so much time has passed. I want to insert our favorite Downton Abbey quote here, but it has an ironic, cruel twist to it in this context.

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