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.

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December 26, 2011 - Posted by | Promises | ,

5 Comments »

  1. […] Do you ever feel like a baboon in a cage, wordlessly grunting and contemplating this still-foreign concept of love? No; I’m sure you’ve been in love before. And to be honest, my dear, I’m jealous of you for it. But remember, we’re still going to crave after that different kind of perfect. […]

    Pingback by #21: Sweet Nothings « Letters to Luthien | June 20, 2012 | Reply

  2. […] the illusive “true love’s first kiss” with someone. Like I told you here and here, it bugs me a little bit. But I’ve held on this long, held back on this gift that so many […]

    Pingback by I Dreamed I Kissed You « Letters to Luthien | August 20, 2012 | Reply

  3. Goodness gracious, man. I can honestly say that your writing is the most passionate I’ve ever read or heard. While reading, part of me thinks, “Yes. This is how Adam must have felt about Eve. This is how passionate Christ is for his bride. This is the fervor that all love should have,” and then another part of me is terrified at the thought of someone loving me with the burning intensity that you love Luthien. I’d be afraid that I couldn’t love him enough in return…or, rather, know how to show my love enough.

    Does the degree of your passion ever frighten you? Or how about baring your soul with abandon the way you do? I mean, I understand that anonymity is liberating. It allows you to voice things that you need to put out in the world that you can’t otherwise. I’m asking if it frightens you to actually put words to your passion, to face the intensity of your desire? I feel that my heart would break if I were to express how deep some of its longings are. But not being able to express what I feel is a shortcoming of mine.

    Also, of course I don’t know what Luthien’s story will be, but know that there are women out there who have not given their heart to anyone. I am one of those women and I’ve known others. There are some of us who believe that hearts are not meant to be broken. I want my future husband to be the only one I give my heart to. It already belongs to him. So don’t despair that you are the only person who lives, feels, believes the way you do about that because you are not alone!

    However, I’ve had to ask God to help me let go of my expectations. As amazing and wonderful a man and a love story I can think up myself, God knows what I need. I love how you said that even if she has been hurt you would make her forget. Again…the passion! The Passion! 🙂

    Comment by Ace Rosalind | November 2, 2012 | Reply

    • Thank you for your kind words, Ace. I don’t know what personal impressions are left, but I think perhaps the passion and intensity all escapes into the words as they lay cooling on the page, and it is thus I am kept sane and stoic in my dealings with the real world. Perhaps the words set up an image of a person greater than I truly am in real life. They are part of me, but they are not all of me, and I don’t know any experience outside of feeling them burn, and the relief of writing them. I don’t know how someone outside of myself would rate them against me personally.

      Does this passion frighten me? Not at all. But it is a burdensome task to have an entire sun hidden in your soul that must be concealed. The writing does not add to the weight, it relieves it. Where else would it go if not here?

      I have considered whether or not expectations should be surrendered. In some ways, I have few expectations, and in other ways my expectations are overly high. I do not think my standards exceed the Lord’s.

      I hope these letters are only footnotes in the Book of Love He is preparing.

      Comment by BerenEstel | November 2, 2012 | Reply

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    Comment by lovely | August 13, 2014 | Reply


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