My Exhausted Darling
You found me in September of 2013. Less than a month later you were in Salt Lake City for a conference. It really messed with our schedule.
Here in the land of Oz we get to speak quite late at night. Back then I think you were getting out of bed a little after 6.00am which was 10.00pm my time. So we would sneak a few moments on the phone together. Then after you’d readied yourself for the day we would speak again on your way to work. Midnight would see me put my head down, I’d sleep through the night, and wake up about the time when your work was finished. This time was the best. If we both managed to have clear schedules we could speak for six hours non stop. Let’s be honest here my love, we have done that on a number of occasions.
Now daylight saving has kicked in and your 6.00am is now my midnight, so we talk a little less. At about the commencement of the changed hours you drove, with your colleagues, over six hours to Salt Lake City for a conference. Now I know about the conferences that I have attended. I’m guessing yours may not be quite the party fests that I am used to. However I assumed we would get to have some time together. How wrong I was. Every moment of your day was micro managed. It was either spent in studious lecture halls, then maybe an organised dinner. You might be taking part in some team building exercise like watching a basketball match or viewing a film. Suffice it to say we hardly spoke for the five days you were away. I loathed it. If I had my wits about me I would have hopped a plain to Salt Lake City and subverted the entire process in person.
There was however one night I distinctly remember. You had gotten back to your hotel room late, again. You’d showered then climbed into bed; I was laying on my lounge. We started to talk. I could tell you were tired. I tried to let you go but you insisted that you could stay awake and speak with me. Well the warmth of that bed, the late hour, and my obviously dull conversational skills all contributed to you falling asleep.
I knew you were slumbering as your breaths became deeper, slower, and more even. I’m not sure if this is impolite, but we might even consider there being a gentle, almost silent snore going on? I lay on my lounge with the phone to my ear and listened to you sleeping. I felt a real sense of contentment. After about 30 minutes I told you I loved you and severed the connection. You didn’t remember and it wasn’t until you returned home that I informed you it had even occurred.
Goodnight My Darling, I Love You
From Sir With Love
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My Dear Unruffled Sir,
It was difficult to go to a week-long conference so soon after we started communicating again. We had years of catching up to do, and the conference was taking up precious time. I know it’s silly, but that’s how I felt.
I felt compelled to talk to you. I wanted and needed to talk to you. A great deal of time had already passed without you in my life, and I didn’t want to miss any more of it because of a mere conference. Alas, I still had my duties to perform; such is life.
I had a good time with colleagues. This much is true. We even went to a Utah Jazz basketball game, and they actually won. Consequently, I told you I was their good luck charm. You were quick to agree. Ha. We also went out to eat at some spectacular restaurants and wandered through beautiful City Creek Center.
The highlight of my day, however, was to go back to my hotel room, take a hot shower, crawl into bed, and phone you. We spoke until I couldn’t stay awake any longer. It fits in with my personality that I fought against the Sandman to try and talk to you as long as possible. I am aghast that I fell asleep while on the phone with you. I find it so heartwarmingly tender that you stayed on the phone and listened to me sleep (even if you like to pretend that I snored).
I remember watching you sleep in person as you lay next to me in bed. I was always temped to plug your nose, and after your snoring announcement I wish I did.
I love you my sweet Sir – always.
Naughtily yours,
Darling
©2014 Darling and Sir
The Sir Letters 