Love letters

Love Letters

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I was thinking about love letters and remembered how much I enjoy them… how much they say about humanity. Then, I remembered that I had written once about how much I enjoy love letters. I decided to retrieve my musings on this wonderfully romantic topic. I dusted it up and decided to re-post it here… Didn’t change much, I’m afraid — still feel the same way.

It turns out that on the day I wrote this note that I was seated in an airport lounge supposed to be working but instead found myself day dreaming… imagine, I still do this — let my mind wander off, lost in some fantasy.

I am reading instead what I love the most in the world – some fiction novel that’s a cross between romance and chic lit. I am loving the character – Valentina: 34; single; in love with a man who lives far away. And she just received a letter from said man. It got me thinking – I can’t remember when I last received a love letter. Damn it… I just realized that I really really want a love letter… Valentina’s could be a model:

“… I wondered if it could be true, that you might reciprocate the feelings I had, and turn my longing to kisses. Now, I hope. Do you feel as I do?”

Do people talk like this anymore?

I suppose that in the 19th Century and back it was more common… any 21st Century takers?

Do people, even write letters any more? I am not talking about hot, steamy emails or text messages. I mean real, live, par avion covered letters, scripted in pen.

I would imagine that they are a novelty. I can also see how they could be an exercise in frustration – it took me about 2 months once to receive a wedding invitation through Kenya Post.

But you know, I remember, once when I was in love, around 10 years ago, receiving about six or seven love letters in about six weeks of summer. I looked forward to those envelopes, dotted with cologne spots and the most tender words I have ever had the pleasure of reading. For me… and not by me. I was so eager to hear what my love’s heart wanted to say. It was so so silly romantic but I enjoyed it thoroughly.

Unabashedly soaked it all in.

Sometimes I wonder if I have outgrown such indulgence as really and truly believing in the value of a love letter. Mmmmhhh. It seems that I might be a little sentimental. Must be residual from having my heart awakened and having attended the most beautiful wedding last Friday. Seriously, though, do modern and post modern mentalities even debate these things? Is it possible to be too sophisticated so that love letters are so yesterday’s news?

Forget the musings… I just really want a love letter.

I am so amused by how consistent I am in my longings… I still feel the same way.

I think, for me, it would be quite in order to receive a love letter and for it to be as priceless as diamond ring. I guess that’s really not odd — writers love words, hear words, and believe words.

Nope. Not odd at all.

Sometimes I am slow – part 2 of 2

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And now, the letter…

Mmmhhh… so continuing from the previous post, here’s the letter that I wrote. Somehow I am not as enthusiastic about it as I was before. I don’t even know why it was so important for me to write it or even post it. I guess it’s me needing to be heard.

I am of two minds now. Not sure if I have resolved anything. Except maybe the chance to have a one-sided conversation and make up for being really slow… Anyway, here’s the letter:

Dear Lover,

You know one of the most beautiful things about me, I think, is how much I love love… it’s kinda my thing. 

My biggest wish has been, and remains, to find this Big Love. The other night we spoke and I was not clear about the things I thought I wanted. You insisted that I knew what I needed. And I said I was not sure. I was not being disingenuous— my processor was overwhelmed by you and so things were just not ringing true in that special inner place where true wishes do.

Afterwards, nearly a week later to be honest, I was able to access myself in a way that I have not done in a long while.

It probably does not matter but I finally realized what I want. Lover, I desire to be loved deeply and truly. Being with you the other night showed me how intimacy could be. How much I missed being connected to someone. How much I really wanted to love someone back, to touch them, to nurture them, to fulfill their desires, to be close — and perhaps to give them the things they secretly wish for too — and maybe help them uncover bits and pieces of themselves they thought were lost to life experiences and disappointments.

Sometimes, like now, I am overwhelmed by how romantic and idealized my thoughts are regarding love. I am afraid that my desire to be loved in such a specific way stands in the way of me finding love. But while I know there is a good chance that these could remain longings (I am so aware of time passing), I am so totally convinced about the one thing that I cannot possibly give up: I deserve to be loved fiercely and decisively— not to be someone’s ambivalent number one. But to be wholly and boldly desired. To be chosen as the One. 

Despite being now so clear about what I desire and seek — I am terribly scared to admit it — sometimes, even to myself. 

I want to thank you, Lover, for helping me realize how important it is for me to be loved and wholly accepted and to be able to bear witness to this showing of love without confusion.  Without hesitation. And without shame of the sometimes bearing of my insecurities and neediness. 

(I am so incredibly aware of my own imperfections and inadequacies).

So you were right. I do want to be able to point and say, “Mine.” But above all this, I want the chance to be loved and to love unconditionally — and desired too — with unwavering conviction!

Conviction… Not a very romantic notion, huh?

xoxoxo

So now…

So that was the letter. I am so hopeful that I will find someone who will be sure about me.

And one who will (gasp!) give me their heart. 

And that I shall be in the privileged position of loving them too and hopefully doing it in the way they desire the most.

Sometimes I am slow – part 1 of 2

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Oh boy…

I recently had a bit more insight into myself and what I found was quite exciting. Well, to be honest, it was more terrifying than exciting but oh! the stories I tell myself!

I found that I am often slow to process my thoughts and emotions, especially when I am feeling tenderly for someone. The sharp wit, the quick come backs, and the articulate expressions often leave me. I probably will need to unpack why this happens but I now understand how people can get overwhelmed by feelings and emotions.

While I was thinking about how slow I go, it occurred to me that maybe all my senses are so tuned in to that one moment, that my brain cannot do the quick thing it does and I am at a disadvantage.

So you can guess by now, that I was in a position of disadvantage recently. I was trying to have an honest conversation with a very important “Him” … and I was incredibly frustrated by my inability to access myself and be true in the moment. I was apprehensive. I felt under pressure to appear cool. Maybe my ego didn’t help because I was already so enamored by “Him” and quite unable to process as quickly, that I was being really slow.

It wasn’t until days later that I began having the conversation, with myself obviously, that I should have had with “Him.”

It took me a week nearly to figure out my thoughts. I couldn’t go back to have a conversation because well, it was a week later. I wasn’t too keen to be as open just yet, because, well… ego… Still, my inner romantic teenager was screaming at me to ventilate my issues. I have written about ventilation before and how satisfying it is to just put things out there. Of course, the post has a different context but the theme is the same: confront the fear, deal with the issue. Anyway, I decided to write a letter.

So there’s a bit at stake here, right? There is the exposure and vulnerability of being so open. And there’s the risk of discovery— right now, I have the privilege of being undiscovered and unread. It’s so much easier to write when no one’s watching. Even better when I can disguise my most innermost thoughts and feelings as an exploration of myself as Writer (yes, with a capital W).

So anyway, I wrote this long letter. I haven’t the courage to share with “Him” so I decided to confessional it. It’s actually pretty poetic because I want to copy and paste it into the post just as the bells of a nearby Church are pealing… I will take that as a sign to proceed.

I think one of the fringe benefits of being a cowardly romance writer should be the ability to use my own inadequacies as material, not so? But I think I will create a whole new post with the letter. This one is a bit too long anyway.

You know, as I was drafting the letter, I did feel an abnormal amount of satisfaction— not only in having articulated myself as I wish I could in what I think was a defining moment of romance, but also in being honest with myself.

In my twisted romantic mind, I sometime think that one day, I will have magically earned the level of honesty with myself that will allow me to truly connect to another human being and perhaps enjoy love. Every time I am able to courageously express my innermost desires, I feel as though I am closer to finding my Big Love.

Of course, maybe I am completely off. But some romantic teenager inside me whispers, “What if you’re not wrong?”

Coming up next: Part 2 of this post.