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

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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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The Virtual Beginning

Dear Sir,

I noticed you right away. You stood out among the crowd. In a world of black and white, your charisma and charm shone through. While most didn’t ‘get me’ you did; consequently, you did from the very onset. Nonverbal communication was no barrier in our minds. You would fire off a remark at me, and I’d fire one back even more caustic; I loved it. Sparring became our thing. We understood each other and my world became very small where you were at the center. I would get a thrill when I knew you were there. I still do.

We exchanged pictures. My eyes drank you in. There you were – a person of flesh and blood captured in 2-D. A man. Real. You seemed surprised that I liked what I saw, although for the life of me I don’t know why. Dare I say I saw a glimmer of hesitancy in your persona? I loved you for that small vein of uncertainty in an otherwise confident human being. It was endearing.

We took our long conversations to a private world where we bothered no one and just enjoyed each others’ humor, intelligence, and sarcasm. I’m not sure who suggested it first, but it was decided that we’d up the ante and move our discussions to the phone. I still remember the first words you said, “Did you think I was going to call?”  I giggled.  I was mesmerized by the richness of your voice. It fit you perfectly.  I couldn’t get enough, and this became the first of many countless calls.

The ball was rolling, and I was helpless to hold it back. I didn’t want to hold it back. I couldn’t hold it back even if I tried. It was beyond me. I was smitten. Thank you for this beautiful memory. I hold it close, and it’s very dear to my heart.

Fervently yours,

Darling

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My Darling

How very strange to be corresponding with you in this manner. I say that not because it isn’t right but because ours was a very modern romance, shaped and formed in the fires of the internet. I too remember our first encounter. You were in my room. A new little want to be who, like so many others, would be quickly made aware of the pecking order. How wrong I was. Oh yes we sparred, how could we not? The contest felt gladiatorial. You were fast, smart, educated and confident. It quickly became apparent that you were a new force to be reckoned with. But instead of a contest I gave you something that few have earned and even less have received, my respect. My room became our room. How could it have been any other way?

I still remember the first image that you sent me. A girl, no a woman, completely at ease with herself, comfortable in her own skin, was now challenging me from afar. Your swim suit may have been black and white but your personality shined through in all its multi coloured brilliance. Now I don’t want you to think it was titillation, although I couldn’t help but notice your womanhood, however the bravado you displayed was no braggadocio. The defiant pose you struck, as you leapt into that lake, was so in keeping with the personality I had come to know that how could it have been anyone other than you?

Yes our private chat was intense as we slowly got to know one another. We probed away expecting to find some weakness or some flaw. I for one have stopped looking. Yes we found every other’s strengths and we found each other’s weaknesses but that only made me love you all the more.

That first call I can still picture in my mind. There I was, all by myself. Sitting, staring, steeling myself to have the courage to pick up that phone. I gulped some water, cleared my throat, placed the instrument of our communication squarely before me and dialled your number. My heart was in my mouth. I was nervous, nervous like a teenager on a first date nervous. You answered and it began. My nerves? You washed them away.

How the ball did roll. I remember nought of what we said. What was important was that you had become a little more real, a little more tangible. Your personality now had a voice, one that I would come to know oh so well over the coming years. I had not said it at the time but I think we both knew how one another felt. Each step along our journey was not to confirm those feelings; they only served to make them all the more real. They are real to me still.

 

You are still my darling.

From Sir With Love

©2013 Darling and Sir