Tag Archive | letters

Letting my guard down

I spent an incredible weekend with an amazing man.  A man better than I deserve — although he doesn’t understand why I say that.

Saturday was filled with anxiety.  I had flashbacks of you, and they stung.

I remembered last Valentine’s Day — eating fast food and meeting you at a hotel the night before you flew off on an excursion with your brother.  I dressed up — you didn’t really care.  I bought you gifts — you were kind of appreciative.  I still don’t think you ever listened to the CD of music I made you.

This Valentine’s Day, the man in my life came to my house the night before.  I took Valentine’s Day off work.  We slept in, ate chocolate-covered strawberries for breakfast.  Took a walk.  Had a great dinner.  Saw a movie.  Came home and cuddled.

Faced with the reality of someone who wants to be with me, juxtapositioned with the memories of a love that I believed in so much, but was never this good…haunted me.

Damn you!

I can’t believe it’s real.  I can’t believe something this good can happen to me.

Trusting him with my heart?  Still not happening.  I beat myself up over it.  How in the world could I have believed that what you and I had was real…and can’t believe that what I have with HIM is real?  He’s here.  All the time.  He’s never given me reason to doubt how he feels about me.  But I question it.  All the time.  To a destructive level.

I pray to God (very unusual) every day (highly unusual) not to let me mess this up.  It’s not often you get more than one bite at the apple, and I don’t want to let this one go.

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All’s well that ends well

My intention was to break up with you gently.

The doorbell rang.  Although I was standing by the door, I waited to open it.

You were standing there in a long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans.  You needed a haircut and you had facial hair.  You looked a bit worn, but utterly delicious.

You wrapped me in your arms and I was powerless.  You held me and squeezed me hard, told me how much you missed me.  You apologized and said you never meant to hurt me.  You also said I was never, ever a piece on the side to you.

I offered you a drink.  You said you would have one if I was.  I remembered I hadn’t eaten, so I decided it wasn’t such a good idea.  I directed you to the sofa.  You complimented my holiday decor.

You started the conversation.  It seemed a bit rehearsed.  How we never meant to fell in love.  How great we are together and it’s because we love each other.  It’s not just about sex.

I know you live in your head and don’t let many people in.  Close friends are few in your life.  You’re an introvert.  A loner. I believe you when you say I know you better than anyone.

You told me the story of your latest drama, how you thought The Wife and I were working together.  We discussed possibilities, I asked questions.  You apologized for saying horrible things to me.

I told you that when you took up for her, I knew that you loved her and not me.  You said you had to do it in case she was seeing the texts.  I didn’t buy your story.

I asked what you want from me and you said you didn’t know.  I said after four years you ought to know.  You said you want to be with me but can’t think of a graceful way to get out of the marriage.  Plus there is YD.

I said you had made plans for your future and they were with her and did not include me.  You said that’s not necessarily true.  I called bullshit.

You said I’m the love of your life.  You want to keep me in your life, even if we just stay friends.  You need me.  You need me to love you and you want to love me forever.

It was entirely unfair.

You made me completely forget what I was saying.  I was under your spell.  I had to pull out my index cards with my talking points.  You laughed.

You disagreed without being argumentative.

You discussed her worsening disability and how she won’t be able to work much longer and that driving is becoming difficult for her.  I’m not sure I believed that.

I discussed how we can’t even have a “normal” affair because you can’t take time away.

You tried to tell me to hold on.  That soon she would be so severely disabled she would be homebound or in a nursing home.  I cut you off.  I told you that was too terrible to think about and I refuse to talk about it.

We made love.  It was wonderful.

Damn you.  You have my heart.  Always.


Hope and Fear

I’m here in my bed at noon on a Sunday morning struggling to put my thoughts into words.  I don’t often have that problem.

Mr. Celebrity Lookalike left a couple of hours ago.  And yes, he does bear a striking resemblance to a famous broadcaster.  It’s almost uncanny.

It was my official birthday party last night, a joint party with several friends who have birthdays in the same month.  Of course you could never attend such a gathering.  My FWB didn’t even respond to my invitation.

I got a happy birthday call from Mr. Lookalike, who was in a city three states to the south looking after his investment property.  He asked about the party and then asked if I had male companionship for the event.  I acknowledged I did not.  He then, very boldly, very presumptuously, asked if he could be my date.  I enthusiastically accepted.

He drove 8 hours to get here — was running late due to a catastrophe at his rental — and drove straight to the bar.  He later accompanied Ms. Party Girl and me to another watering hole, then made sure she got home safely before driving me home.  He stayed here until late morning before heading home to unload his truckload of belongings that he had brought with him.

I can’t find anything wrong with him. It scares me.

He’s polite.  Gentlemanly.  Affectionate.  Attentive.  Fun.  Friendly.  He greeted all of my friends, introduced himself and shook their hands.  The men were wary.  The women were wowed.  He was a big hit.

For a few moments I thought I had found a flaw — he was deep in conversation with my friend at the bar, and I wasn’t really participating (I don’t even recall the subject at this point).  Just when I thought perhaps he could be being too attentive to her, he leaned over and kissed me.

OK, I’m smitten.

He seems stable, despite living in another state for a year while tending to his investment and now living with his very elderly parents.  By the way, his rental is located in one of my favorite cities.  He seems to be relatively recently divorced, but no apparent baggage.  He said he doesn’t even know where his ex lives.  He doesn’t belong to the opposite political party, but acknowledges he did for many years.

And despite his military aviation career…he’s a scientist.  His degree is in a science.  I don’t know why I was so surprised by the revelation.  It’s the type for which I am a magnet.

I know he has those traits that, while I’m drawn to them, can indicate issues.  Aviators, military officers, scientists…they all can be self-absorbed control freaks.  So the jury is out…but I’m cautiously optimistic.

I’m trying to just go with it and see where it leads.  I’m trying to keep my expectations low to avoid disappointment.  But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about this turn of events.

My mind, however, tends to go negative.  What if he’s a player?  Has a serious girlfriend in the other city?  Takes a job far away? Doesn’t want a real relationship?

So far there is no evidence that points in those directions — although he is looking for a job.  Not terribly seriously, but eventually he will need occupation and might want some cash.  He complains about the climate here after living in warmer areas for his entire career.

He likes cats.  My cat likes him.  It must be meant to be.

Our connection

Our connection is more than an addiction.  It’s like you can see into my soul.

Your eyes.  Your touch.  Everything about you.

Loving you has been the best thing I’ve ever done.  No matter how it turns out and regardless of the pain, I’m glad I did it.

My life is complete when I’m with you.  Your arms are where I’m meant to be.  Your smile can make the world go away.

Living without you is going to be the hardest thing I will ever have to do.

My heart is with you.  Always.

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New Year’s Eve and the Tales You Weave

You called.  I answered.  Twenty-three minutes.  

In just 23 minutes, you wove a tale so mind-boggling and unbelievable I almost believed it.  Perhaps I believed some of it.  Perhaps some of it is even true.  Interestingly enough, even though I didn’t believe half of what you had to say, hearing your voice and talking to you made me feel better.  Damn you!

The conversation wrapped up because she came home.  You whispered you love me as you hung up to greet her.  I’m seriously doubting your sanity.

I listened.  I talked.  It was a surprisingly normal conversation despite what has gone down between us.  You explained — a monstrous tale I can’t begin to repeat right now — and apologized.  You never meant to hurt me.

You explained the nasty text you sent me.   You had panicked.  You thought The Wife and I were in cahoots and plotting against you.  You had to make it look like you were breaking it off with me and taking up for her.

Well played.

At this point, the truth regarding the drama is a bit beside the point.  Irrelevant in the grand scheme.

This is what I know.  When the going got tough, when you were confronted with evidence of your cheating ways, your first instinct was to protect your OWN ass.  Not mine.  Not even hers — although at least when I thought you were taking up for her I thought you were being honorable.  I thought you really loved her.  Do you even realized you just admitted to being a complete and utter dog?

Or maybe you’re just telling me you said that.  Maybe at the time you were taking up for her.  But to woo me back you have to tell me you said it for her benefit, in case she saw the text.  So that she would know you were ditching me for her.

You were, dumbass.  And I’m going to make sure you live with that decision.

After the Christmas Day text there were others.  You miss me.  Love me.  Want me back.  Mine said I wanted us to sit down and end this relationship face-to-face, like grownups, instead of by text like we’re in high school.  You said, “Sounds good.”  You were to get back to me on the day and time.

I didn’t hear from you for two days. Ironically, right after I returned from an impromptu “girl trip” because I was so depressed over the Christmas Day Debacle (I had a meltdown in the middle of my Christmas party because you texted me.  Yeah, that was a good time).

It seriously makes me wonder if you have my house bugged.  I even asked you.  You didn’t answer.

But the text when I returned from my trip was a continuation of the “let’s break up like grownups” conversation.  It said:

“By the way, I am not breaking anything off.  We just need to talk about where we are and what you want and what is best for both of us.  I love you and care about you very much.  Always have, always will.  I miss you…more than you know.”

Not fair, sir.  Not fair at all.

We are going to talk in person this week.  I have a lot to say, and you’re going to listen.  Here is a preview:

Why would you want to continue this affair?  She is obviously closing in more than ever.  Do you want to get caught?

Even more importantly, why would I want to continue? What do you have to offer me?  A legitimate relationship? A commitment? I don’t think so.  We can’t even have a “normal” affair because you don’t have enough time to spare.  I can find someone to screw me a couple of hours a week.  I don’t need it to be someone who is ripping my heart out.

You’ve chosen to stay with her.  Go love her.  Love her the way you love me.  Let her love you the way I do.

I used to think it wouldn’t be fair to myself or another man if I got involved with someone I didn’t feel as strongly about as you.  Now I realize that settling on being your “other” is what is “settling.” Choosing to be with someone I don’t care about as much as you isn’t “settling.”  Unless settling is being with someone who thinks I’m worth it.

Being your mistress is settling.

A new year is upon us.  Go home and fall in love with your wife.

I’m going to find someone else to love.

My heart is with you.  Always.  Damn it.

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Be Careful What You Wish

On Christmas Eve I looked into the sky at the star I wished upon so many times over the past four years.  When I first fell in love with you, I wished that you loved me, too.

That one was granted.

Within the past year or so, I wished that you would choose to be with me.  And while that seemed like it would be granted eventually — or at least you seemed to dangle that possibility often — it didn’t happen.

Then The Wife found out (or at least strongly suspected) about our affair.  You dumped me.  I wished you would come back to me.  You did.  I was back to wishing you would choose to be with me all of the time.

I set a deadline in my mind:  Christmas.  I told you I wanted to spend Christmas with you — but I didn’t tell you that was the deadline.  I began wishing that you would be with me for Christmas.

Then the wife was onto you again.  You accused me of revealing the affair to her.  You said some very horrible, nasty things by text message.  You said to never contact you again.  That changed the way I looked at the stars.  I wasn’t sure what to wish for anymore.  Sometimes I wished you would be happy. Sometimes I wished you would come to your senses.  Sometimes I didn’t wish at all.

On Christmas Eve  I looked at the star, shrugged, said, “This is stupid, it’ s too late now.”  But I wished the I-wish-you-were-with-me-for-Christmas wish.

I entertain on Christmas Day.  It was the afternoon and my FWB arrived early so that we could have a romp before the guests arrived.  We were in the bedroom starting to undress one another when my phone, on the kitchen counter, made a noise.  He looked at me and said, “That was an email or text or something.”

I said, “Yes, it was a text.  And that text tone belongs to only one person.”   I powered on, although it was difficult to concentrate.  Finally, as we are making the last-minute preparations for the party, I looked at my phone.  I read the text.  I threw my phone on the counter.  He poured me a glass of bourbon and handed it to me.

Your text said:

“Merry Christmas! Hope you are doing well.  I am sorry about everything.  I miss you and love you … always.”

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Throwback Thursday: This Love*

*This note was written before The Breakup

I’m completely in love with you.  I love you without limits.  I’ve never felt this way before, and I intend to celebrate it.  No more being sad because we can’t be together.  No more complaining because I don’t get enough time.

My love for you is the most amazing feeling in the world.  I’m going to keep it.  Cherish it.  Savor it.  Bask in it and wallow in it.

It’s real, it’s incredible and it’s meant to be.

I love you and I’m not going anywhere.  You make me happy and I make you happy.

The Wife can have the time, house, the money, the vacations, the grandchildren.

Would I like those things? Sure.  But I’ve got the love.

That’s worth everything.

My heart is with you.  Always.


A Christmas Note*

*This note was written before The Breakup.

The following is the content of the letter I gave you in a Christmas card.


Dear [Your Name]:

Loving you is an incredible gift.  I’m in awe of the intensity of my feelings for you.

My love for you has changed my life.  It has forced me to be honest with myself and examine the contents of my own heart.  It has challenged my own view of what love is  supposed to be and what it means to my life.

My heart is yours.  I give it freely.  Completely. Always.  Thank you for accepting my love without question.

Your love is safe with me.  You can count on me to love you unconditionally.  My life is open to you and you can have as large a role as you want to have.

Being with you is a priority because happiness is a priority to me.  There’s nothing I would rather do than spend as much time as possible making you happy and showing what my love can do for you.

Feel my love.  Know it’s yours.  No one has ever captured my heart the way you have.  And no one else can have my heart as long as I’m in love with you.

All of My Love,

[My Name]

The readers might be wondering if you gave me anything for Christmas.  You did bring me a card.  It was a card from boxed greeting cards, possibly the ones you sent to friends and family or gave to colleagues.

You wrote a short note:


I know this card is not very romantic, but I want you to know that I love you and appreciate you very much.

You’re the best!



It upset me.  I read it after you were gone and I didn’t acknowledge it via text.  You didn’t acknowledge mine, either. You had to hurry off because Son2 was coming to dinner.  I’m the best.  You didn’t sign your name.  You didn’t bother to go to the store to buy a card or pick one up, say, when you bought one for The Wife.

I hope you had a merry Christmas with the your family.

My heart is with you.  Always.

Throwback Thursday: Reconnecting*

*This note was written before The Breakup.

I saw you today.  It was a surprise.  I was supposed to see you tomorrow.  But right after we made plans for tomorrow, you  called me to say you had a meeting canceled and you were available today if I could make it.  I had lots to do, and plenty of reasons to say no, but I didn’t.

For the first time since The Meltdown, we really connected.  It was all you — you went there, not me.  You told me repeatedly how much you love me.  You looked me in the eye constantly.  Those big blue eyes melt my heart.  You held me close and were loving and gentle.  It was extremely good.  And the sex was amazing as usual — but your timing was absolutely perfect.  I don’t know how you do it.

And you slept.  A lot.  Soundly.  I did too — I was tired.  But you were out for a long time.  I sense you’re not sleeping well and when I commented on it you didn’t acknowledge it.

You held me and stroked me and told me how much you want to be with me.  How you’re working on spending “lots” more time with me and how you want us to go away together.  I’ve heard this before, and I’m sure you mean it when you say it.  It just never happens.

Tonight I got a text:

“Thank you for making the trip today!  You were — as always — awesome.  I needed you today.  I love you very much.

You rarely use the word need, and never in this context.  It’s usually more about wanting.

Why are you steering us back down the emotional path?  It’s great as just sex.

Did you sense I was mad that you went to headquarters last week and didn’t tell me ahead of time?  And then stayed there the entire holiday weekend with friends?  The Family went up, which doesn’t make much sense from a logistical perspective.

I don’t know why I even bother going out with other men.  None are of your caliber.  Sexy, smart, successful.  You’re the benchmark, and it’s a high bar to surpass.

I’m puzzled.  Pleased.

And it happens just as I was drafting the breakup letter.  Can you read my mind?

My heart is yours. Always.

The No Crying (or Blogging) at Work Rule

I’m breaking some rules today.

You and I have discussed my strict “no crying at work” rule.  This rule was decreed many years ago when I worked in an all-female office.  We emphasized that to be taken seriously as professionals we couldn’t cry at work.  I’ve modified that to “no crying in front of coworkers).  I have cried a few times.  But only twice in front of colleagues.

After your very nasty, threatening text on Saturday, I freaked out.  You probably figured that out when you listened to my  frantic voicemail message.  Yeah, if I could take that back, I would.  After that, I tried to access my work computer.  Guess what? When accessing the corporate network my computer died.  Just konked out.  Wouldn’t restart.

Freaked out even more, I placed a frantic call to my company’s IT department.  They kind of laughed at the prospect of a hacker accessing the network and I had to ask for a supervisor.  After pulling my battery, the kind supervisor walked me through some steps to prevent any misuse of my laptop.  He also put in a ticket to send out a technician to look at my computer and they made note that I had reported that someone had received emails purportedly from me.

Because you didn’t tell me which email account the alleged threatening emails came from, I notified my internet service provider.  The representative laughed at me all the way from India.  He told me that no one could access my email account from their network (yeah, right), but that ANYONE could hack into my computer from anywhere.  That was comforting.

I also had emailed my boss and the office manager notifying them of the helpdesk ticket and noting that it related to a “sensitive personal issue.”  My boss didn’t reply nor ask, being the gentleman he is, and not wanting to get involved in potential drama.  The office manager, being a woman about my age, did ask.

I shut her office door.  Told her I would tell the boss only if necessary.  She promised confidentiality.  I told her the story. I didn’t break down and cry while recounting the story of our relationship (the G-rated version), but I did well up.  As I am now as I write this.  At work.  Sigh.

She offered some possible scenarios and also offered to call the police.  She asked for your name (she’s also in charge of security and safety for our office) I gave it to her. I told her the police would only make it worse.  And while you were very harsh and it could be construed as threatening, I’m not afraid of you physically.  As for The Wife, your comment that “you better hope she doesn’t find you” (or something similar — it’s still too painful to read your message again), could be interpreted as a threat against my personal safety.  She is not the first to suggest that a restraining order against The Wife might be necessary.  However, I think it would make it worse.

So I’m not doing it.

Let’s face it.  What’s the worst she could do, kill me?  Would that be justifiable homicide? Would I deserve it?  The answer is yes to all of the above.

I will take my chances.

My heart — which is breaking 1,000 times over — is with you.  Always.

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