(This was hard and it made me cry. Dammit! I thought I was past this…)
Just so you know, you are the one that got away. The one I never had, the one that I always wanted. I remember our first meeting very clearly: I wore a red-brown shirt and brown chinos, you your Yankees cap and the yellow Dickies. I sat on the table in the corner, you in the chair in front of me. We talked all night. I had never met anybody I could, and wanted, to talk to like that. Ever. You were my first likes-the-same-music-person. The first to share my love for sneakers. Had you asked me that night if I wanted to marry you, I would have said yes. No thinking about it. I was 18, you were 20. And we didn’t get married.
And now, so many many many years later, I would still say yes if you asked me. Within the blink of an eye. Because even now, you are the best man I have ever met. I can hear you laughing at me for saying this. But it’s true. Yes, you can be an asshole. You are mysterious when it comes to all things emotional. You like to keep people at a certain distance.
I know you are one of the kindest souls there are. You have such a soft, big heart that you need to protect it at all times. And I wish you’d let me help.
You are the single most generous person I know. And since you know my friends, you know how big of an accomplishment that is. You would rather starve than not help a friend out with some cash without expecting anything back. And they don’t even have to ask. You pay for food, drinks, whatever, without giving it a second thought. You give away those of your belongings that somebody else said they’d like. You help carry heavy stuff, repair things, build things, lend out your car, and drive people wherever they need to be, no matter how far.
You are the most intelligent person I have ever met. You know things I don’t even dream about and if you don’t know, then you still listen and learn. Hardly ever have I met anybody I could talk about so many things with, that I could use all the words I use with you with. I know you don’t know, but this is absolutely invaluable to me. Your smartness makes you oh, so sexy.
Not that the rest of you doesn’t help with that…
And all the little things. The tiny stuff that just adds up:
You open the car door for me and you close it behind me. You make fun of me where other people don’t, but in a way that is never malicious, never hurtful. You make me laugh. So hard. You are one of the funniest people I have ever met. And so sweet. The way you blush when you are embarrassed makes me want to hug you tight and never let go. You know about me, my “things”, and I don’t feel like you judge. When we eat you always make sure I get the first plate. You make sure I don’t carry the heavy bags when we go grocery shopping. You take me serious and despite the fact that you are so much smarter than me, I feel like you see me as an equal. Your hands, so beautiful. Your smile the cutest, way cuter than a grown man your age should have underneath that beard. The way your hair loss makes you feel insecure even though you are the only one who sees and cares. You buy extra tickets for shows you go to. Just in case anybody wants to come. You always buy the first round of beer. You are so considerate. And careful. You are fearless when it comes to travels and food, going anywhere, eating anything.
And the way you make me feel. Safe. I would go anywhere with you, as long as you are by my side, I’d be safe. When I am in the car with you, I don’t watch the traffic myself. I let go, I let you take the lead. The best concerts I ever went to were those where you stood right behind me. Tall enough to look over my head, keeping people from me, breaking the tide and making sure I could just enjoy the show. So safe.
You are the one person I know that I don’t feel needs me as a mother. The one person I feel like I can be held instead of holding.
And yet. And yet you are with her. A woman that I consider a personal insult. Yes, that bad. And I don’t know where I went wrong, what I could have done. Something tells me, short of forcing you at gunpoint, that I could have done nothing. That I am your nightmare as much as you are my dream because all this, everything that’s in this letter, you don’t want to hear, can’t accept.
So I am going away. Not far, but far enough to escape the sight of you with her. In the hopes that one day I will meet someone better than you. Or that one day I will be over you. And you will probably never read this, never know how deeply I care for you and how deeply I hurt.
I have given up. Given up on the dream of you and me together. We are the worst we could be; we are my worst case scenario. We are friends.
And as such I bid you
Thanks for reading.