Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

#10: A Different Kind of Perfect

“I know I need to be in love
I know I’ve wasted too much time
I know I ask perfection of a quite imperfect world
And fool enough to think that’s what I’ll find.” – Carpenters

I’ve always had this dream that I might be the first person you cared for, or to whom you offered your heart.

And because I have had prudent reasons for never pursing a woman’s affections before now, I hoped you would feel the same.

I think it’s because there is power in that first love, a newness and fervor. You don’t forget it, and you seldom repeat it. Those first steps of love are so precious, so treasured. I wanted them always to be ours. I held fairy tale fantasies that ours would be the first and last, great and perhaps among the greatest stories never told. A chance meeting that means everything and nothing at once; a conjunction of two stars whose dim glows are kindled by each other’s presence, and whose bright but weary orbits are forever altered.

I now know that dream is unlikely. Life has taught me that lesson sternly many times now, sadly but deftly strangling that dream to death for my own sake. Did I seek perfection? They say I did. They say I still do. Is that wrong? Is it perfection to hope for what I offer to be returned?

I know I can’t blame you for it, so I’m trying not to.

But I’ll admit it. I’m a little jealous.

I’m jealous that you woke up first, and got to taste this adventure before me. I’m jealous that you embarked on the path of learning, and know more about yourself if not someone else. I’m jealous that you ever put your arms around another man, kissed his lips or went to sleep with him on your mind. I’m jealous that he could have walked among your dreams and wishes, or was allowed to read the mysteries of your eyes. I’m jealous that he hurt you, or that he ever could have.

No one in the stories or songs ever talks about things like this. No one tells you that if you don’t shake yourself awake, life passes you by. They all assume no one would preserve this slumber for the sake of prudence.

I despair at the men of the world today. There are so few knights left, let alone knights who polish their armor. They are not men at all, they’re boys. They are foolish, stupid men, little more than slobbering puppies in heat. How lightly they carry the most precious thing in the world — a woman’s heart! How flippantly they trample the emotions so freely and imploringly given.

A few of them are worth a woman’s time. And if you are half the lady I look for you to be, then surely some who know a good thing when they see it will have already pursued your affections. And by the time we meet, one or two of them will probably have hurt your heart.

I never believed in trying to horn in on another relationship or “steal” someone away. I’m too much of a gentleman and have too high a regard for a woman’s choice.

But for the broken and wounded soul, I will promise you this: I’ll make you forget him.

I’ll make you forget any man that ever stole, or wounded or broke your heart.

My goal is to love you so purely and selflessly and completely that you won’t be able to help it. There’s going to be a cleansing fire of passion with every kiss that purges your mind of every memory but ours. Our love will be so wonderful and sweet, the utter and ultimate beginning.  We’ll love unconditionally. They’ll be the jealous ones in the end. They’re all going to envy what you and I have, every single one of them. They’ll look at us and wish they had a love as great as ours, a tenth of our devotion; they’ll wonder how they ever passed by a woman like you.

We’re going to live a different kind of perfect.

Promise.

December 26, 2011 Posted by | Promises | , | 5 Comments

Lonely Kiss

I have a foolish and (for me) very old tradition at Christmas time.

Every year underneath the mistletoe ball, I meet the memories of you we haven’t yet made for one kiss.

Is this the last year I’ll be there alone?

December 26, 2011 Posted by | Holidays | 2 Comments