Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Fields of Gold

My Darling, every letter I write is a seed in the garden of our love.

One day I will come to you, and with me, bring the harvest time grants us.

Then, we will walk in bliss through the vineyards, arm in arm, plighting our troth among the fields of gold.

I promise.

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August 28, 2012 Posted by | Promises | Leave a comment

In Sickness And In Health

Dear Darling,

I almost never get sick.

Maybe once a year, and that not very badly. I try to eat right, I exercise and I don’t engage in unhealthy habits.

But every now and again, I catch some passing illness, or fall prey to some physical ailment, and heaven knows what ills and traumas will befall us both as we age.

Presently, I’ve got people who make sure I’m not dying in bed, but I rather like the idea of you playing nurse-maid for me. I don’t know, maybe that’s just the clearest image in my mind of a wife who cares for me. I’m selfish that way. I want to see worry line your face, I want to see a furrowed brow, knitted and creased with anxiety. There’s something endearing and enthralling about a woman who makes a man’s worries her own.

I think about it because I’m feeling the slightest effects of ill health tonight. Nothing serious, nothing chronic, just enough to put me out of sorts. It’s frustrating because so much is in transition right now, I’m under many stresses and pressures, and I don’t need an impairment, however brief, to cloud my judgment.

And so of course, my thoughts turn to you, and how when we’re alone and I’m sick, you’ll take charge. How you’ll be that someone to watch over me. You’ll lay my armor aside and order me to bed. You’ll bring blankets, and hot water bottles, and cough syrups and herbs and medicines. It will be nothing worse than a debilitating cold or flu, but I’ll still have to tell you to stop calling the doctor.

You’ll read to me or see to it I have reading supplies. (Would you ever read to me anyway? I mean, as a normal course of events? Please?)

You’ll wipe my head with a cool damp cloth, you’ll monitor my temperature, you’ll massage my shoulders and plump my pillow. I’ll be sick and miserable and undesirable, but I can see you pampering me and turning me into a big baby. If I am so unfortunate as to be sick enough not to cherish your efforts at the time, I know it will be sweet and beautiful, and when I come out the other side a healthy man again, I’ll find some brilliant way to reward you.

Who knows! You might be one of those lethally practical kinds who confines me to bed and orders me around, out of love, but firmly. I’m trying to keep an open mind, Darling.

Oft times, no good deed goes unpunished. Perhaps in vengeance for your alliance with me against the affliction, it will take out its vengeance on you. All I know is, in that hour, be prepared for me to pamper and baby you. Hot soup in bed. And endless supply of movies and DVDs. I’ll come home from work with an arm full of flowers, a get-well teddy bear and a stack of poetry books. I’ll sit in a rocking chair while you sip on fluids, and ease your mind with Tennyson or Ella Wheeler Wilcox. I’ll smooth your hair, and part the matted parts plastered against your forehead to plant a kiss on it.

In this way, as in all others, we’ll care for each other. These will simply be the trials where we are less desirable creatures for whom to care. In a strange way, I welcome these as a chance to prove my love extends beyond mere sentiment. I promised I would love you in sickness and in health, and to that I will always hold.

Yours truly,
Beren

August 28, 2012 Posted by | Who I Need You To Be | 1 Comment

To Friend-Zone

I saw you walk in this morning. I hadn’t seen you in a while; I guess maybe you’ve been out of town, which would make sense. It’s a good thing we weren’t in the same classes together. Isn’t it?

Gosh you were pretty. Why’d you have to be so pretty? I mean, seriously. That high porcelain forehead, that raven-black waterfall of hair that you had pinned up in that ladylike “retro” style I find so fetching, that effortless smile and those beautiful eyes. You looked solemn but kind, as if you’d never seen trouble in your life, or as if those troubles never affected you other than to make you wise.

You’re going to look beautiful when you’re old.

It takes a lot to get me to notice you as much as I did, did you know that? There’s a lot of little nuances, things you might not even know you do, which, upon observation, accomplish the feat of raising both my eyebrows and the corners of my mouth.

We met at work when you said you recognized me from here. Afterwards, you stopped to say hi sometimes on Sunday morning, and you offered your services if I had questions about my classes, and introduced me to several of your immediate friends. I friended you on Facebook, whereupon I commenced the behavior any sane Knight seeking his Lady Fair would do; perusing your Facebook feed. I expected to find profanity, sacrilege, indecency, impropriety and imprudence, just like everyone else. You may not understand what it is for a soul to seek evil in a person, expecting any second to unearth the skeletons which force me to stay away…and fail to find them.

Wholesomeness unlooked-for is twice-blessed.

In fact, your friends online spoke highly of your encouragements, your cooking, your listening. You spent time not on video games, movies or alcohol but gardening, running, hiking, photography — productive pursuits, with meaning and purpose.

I asked you to lunch. You immediately informed me it would only be as friends. I must commend the perception you showed in heading me off, even as I remember your deed ruefully. Weeks later, Easter morning in fact, I inquired further, to which you told me you had issues to work though and put most people in the “friend zone.” You were not unkind, but you were resolute, and unexpectedly so.

You kept sharing Bible verses, thoughtful insights, and amazing photos. It was too good to pass up, so weeks later, I could not resist sending you an e-mail explaining to you all the reasons why I thought you a woman of character worth pursuing.

You wrote back to tell me my words were kind (“perhaps too kind”) and full of wit and humor, and that you respected and appreciated my ability to tell them to you — and that you might could learn something from me. But then the hammer rang out: “I am not interested in any sort of relationship with you beyond friendship.”

Ouch. I wish you’d led with that blow.

Perhaps I was foolish to press the issue, inquiring if there was anything I had said, or could say, to impact your conclusion. After all, it was hastily reached with what I deduce to be very little information about me, unless you performed the same due diligence on my Facebook as I did yours — in which case, you would have found nothing objectionable.

You told me you were seeing someone, and asked me as a gentleman to drop it.

That’s the part I don’t understand, and I admit, angered me. The simplest put-off in the world is simply to say “I’m sorry, I’m seeing someone right now.” You could even have faked a hint of sadness, so that not the slightest injury could be taken away. Why the charade about issues and friend-zones? Instead of simply saying your attentions were otherwise occupied, you felt it necessary to go above and beyond to impress upon me how uninterested you were. I find it hard to believe you capable of such avarice, but I can force no other conclusion from the facts. You left no room for “down the road” nor any reason for your abject dismissal. I felt it best to remove you from my friends list, a fact you have no doubt discovered since you no longer so much as look my way when you walk by in the mornings.

Since I hinted at a strong emphasis on purity, I have a hunch you gave it all away with a couple of guys. Just like everyone else, a sullied gem, a festering lily which drags itself through muck and grime for pleasure or fulfillment.

You shouldn’t be allowed, you know. I gave you neither my heart nor permission to touch it, yet still it beats faster up in my chest when I see you. Even today! There should be a rule. Who do you think you are, scattering smiles and charms and scorning their admirers? Why should you so quickly hold in contempt a treasure I have spent a lifetime preparing? There are very few people to whom I would even consider granting this inheritance. Oh, don’t misunderstand, it’s not money, not all of it, though I do well enough for myself. It’s my heart. It’s these letters. It’s my affections, my attentions, my service. It’s…all I have to give.

Not many are so grave or so austere as to serve so swift a rejection of a knight, Raven-Hair. Not many can afford to cast aside the potential for greatness.

If I thought you were worth it inside, if you hadn’t closed the door, if you weren’t ignoring me to this day, I might perhaps still exude my efforts to win your attention.

As it is, you have made that decision for me. And so, you leave me wishing you well, hoping you are a mere imposter, a cheap imitation of the beauty that will be my bride, and barking harsh words at my heart for daring to aspire to the lofty lady and her swift derision.

August 27, 2012 Posted by | Other Letters | 7 Comments

When Stars Are Bright, You Are in My Arms

“And now the purple dusk of twilight time
Steals across the meadows of my heart
High up in the sky the little stars climb
Always reminding me that we’re apart

You wander down the lane and far away
Leaving me a song that will not die
Love is now the stardust of yesterday
The music of the years gone by…”

Dear Darling,

You know of my habits at night, how I am given to frequent strolls outdoors, when all is quiet and dark. The summer hazes are clearing out, leaving a brilliant sky full of stars to ease and aid my contemplation.

It’s so beautiful out at night, Darling. You should be with me. There’s no moon to speak of. Just the constellations spread out across the horizon. The nights are becoming cooler and the crickets are more hushed and subdued. A dog barks in the far distance. It’s the perfect night to cross my arms, or fold them behind me, or shove them in my pockets as I walk, talking aloud with God. I bid Him “good evening” which must be foolish to a God that sees not only the hemispheres of this planet and others, but is outside of time itself.

I tell Him I’m so grateful for the opportunities He has given me. I told Him tonight that I want to remember to thank Him, even when I don’t feel grateful. I don’t possess that “jumping up and down, thankyouthankyouthankyou” zest of gratitude, but rather a quiet reflection on how far He’s brought me, and how far He appears to be preparing me to go.

I pray for friends. Not as many as I ought, nor as often, nor as long. I’ve made a list which is promptly buried somewhere on my desk of the friends who have confided sorrows, burdens, worries and cares. (It occurs to me that they should be casting them at the feet of the Savior, but some do not know Him and perhaps — just perhaps — I’ll dare to suppose that in appointing sons and daughters of the kingdom as heirs and representatives, He has appointed me to represent Him, and so by listening, I am being Christ to them.) Sometimes their names just come tripping off my tongue as I breathe a quick prayer over breakfast, though I wonder a rapid laundry list pleases our Father, or if it gives Him cause to consider their plights as readily as if I spent a half-hour over them.

I pray for my family, and for my own needs.

And naturally I pray for you. “Be with my future Bride, wherever she is” must be a phrase that tires our Lord’s ears by now.

And sometimes, I simply walk in silence, or if I’m less than happy, sigh “Oh Lord…” and ponder.

Tonight, I simply think about the long road behind me, and the one ahead of me. I think about the new adventures ahead of me. I think about how these could be our nights, and one day will be.

Every so often, if I’m looking in the right place, a meteor streaks overhead. I’ve seen a lot more of these the past few years. Maybe it’s just because I’ve been looking. I can pick out Mars, or the Big Dipper and follow its direction to Polaris. And wonder if I could ever use it to navigate if need arose. I wish I knew these constellations better. On a clear night like tonight, you can see the whole arm of the galaxy, curving out into infinity, an inestimable expanse littered with what truly appears to be stardust, spreading a glittering trail across the whole of the night sky.

They say the darkest skies have the brightest stars, but I am not unhappy tonight. I’m quiet and thoughtful. I think I’ve told you this, but I get like that a lot, especially on nights like this, under skies like this. These silent rulers of the night seem not to have reason to make me lonely tonight, and simply glower in their dim persistence.

And then I head back to the house, because life is becoming busy, and there is much work to be done.

I daresay these walks would be longer with you on my arm.

Until then!

Love always,
Beren

“Sometimes I wonder why I spend
The lonely night dreaming of a song
The melody haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you
When our love was new
And each kiss an inspiration
But that was long ago
Now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a song

Beside a garden wall
When stars are bright
You are in my arms
The nightingale tells his fairy tale
A paradise where roses bloom
Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will remain
My stardust melody
The memory of love’s refrain.”

Nat King Cole

August 23, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Nights Like These | Leave a comment

Here Without You

“A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face
A thousand lies have made me colder
And I don’t think I can look at this the same
But all the miles that separate
Disappear now when I’m dreaming of your face

I’m here without you baby
But you’re still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time

I’m here without you baby
But you’re still with me in my dreams
And tonight it’s only you and me, yeah

Everything I know and anywhere I go
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love
And when the last one falls, when it’s all said and done
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love, whoa

I’m here without you baby
But you’re still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time

I’m here without you baby
But you’re still with me in my dreams
And tonight girl it’s only you and me.”

– 3 Doors Down

August 23, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Songs | Leave a comment

Arrogance: The Audacity of Aspiration

Arrogance.

People speak it of me as often as I caution you and guard against myself.

Who am I to sit here behind a keyboard, plucking the sappy strings of romance, aspiring to anything higher than anyone else?

Why should I dare ask you for a love that rivals the movies? To be vulnerable, to watch over me and encourage me, to make me feel again and lift me out of the depths of myself…to save herself for me?

Who am I to make solemn promises and anticipate a life of higher calling together? What fervent audacity drives me to write these letters and hope for some thunder-struck, unknown beauty to tiptoe in from beyond the veil and into my arms? Isn’t a common, everyday “good enough” love sufficient for me? Why should I to pledge something greater, why crave a love that rattles the stars, that turns heads, that rings through generations? What arrogance.

Darling! No wife of mine deserves anything less!

Why should everyone else settle for less than amazing? The whole world laments the loss of innocence, the death of greatness, but no one tries! No one does what it takes to obtain that greatness, to achieve something better than ordinary.

I reject the notion that common is all we need strive for. I have chosen to live my life like nobody else, so that I can live life like nobody else.

In short, I chose (and was chosen) to be amazing. Is it so bold to seek a woman equal to the task?

Yet Darling, you know the things I have written of. You know I have walked where few others have. You know I strive every day with a calling that soars and strangles me, sometimes both in a day. Is it so brazen to ask of you to share this calling?

I will not settle, nor apologize, nor compromise. I will not surrender to fear that I will not find you, or give in to temptation, or assent to mediocrity.

Life and love were meant to be lived abundantly. I reject base commonality and choose to strive for greatness. And yes, I dare to hope and aspire to finding a woman capable of the same.

Darling, come join me and let’s be amazing together.

August 20, 2012 Posted by | Uncategorized, Wonderfully You | Leave a comment

I Dreamed I Kissed You

Dear Darling,

I didn’t get too much sleep last night. Disturbances in life and rising early for worship, plus supporting at least one hurting friend, made for a very late night.

Late this morning, while driving to church actually, it suddenly came back to me. I kissed you in my dream last night.

I’ve never kissed anyone before, Darling. Not a woman I liked, not on the mouth. Once or twice I felt the desire to. We were sitting close together, facing each other. I felt that same powerful urge to be the comforter, to take the sorrows and pains away.

I didn’t.

It’s one of those pleasures I’ve forestalled, knowing in the end physical expressions of love are a means to the end, not the end themselves. It’s electricity that clouds the objective thinking, and bonds, perhaps prematurely. Heavens! don’t think I’m not tempted! I do my best not to put myself in frivolous situations as you know, and even try not to imagine the flames kindled from deep within at the physical touch and electrifying intimacy of sharing a kiss. It’s not as if I don’t want to. I cannot wait to wrap you up in my arms and do nothing but kiss your lips, your eyes, your forehead, your face, your neck.

I didn’t see your face last night. I didn’t see anything about you. Of course I wouldn’t; that would be cheating. All I remember is the strange, alien new comfort and passionate affection, a warm, comforting familiar sensation of being close to someone I loved. It touched something deep inside my core, a feeling of longing and hunger that has never been met before, and so startles to feel its satisfaction — even if fleeting and fanciful. How could my mind concoct such realistic visions of the things I’ve never experienced? The only explanation I know of is that kissing is built into us. The feelings of longing, separation, emptiness, absence, are all hard-wired into our existence, a divinely-appointed craving that drives us like the restless migratory instincts of beasts to find our true life’s partner.

Darling, it may not seem important to you. Odds are, you’ve playfully and meaningfully shared 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 give so freedly, and now I feel I owe it to you and I both not to give it away lightly, if only because everyone else does. I’ve even pondered whether or not I should save it for the altar, as some are in the habit of doing. Or, I’ve pondered not being so caught up in the overthinking of something beautiful and meant to be shared.

I just can’t help thinking, to kiss someone other than you would still somehow be unfaithful to you. I should save everything for you, not just give it away to anyone.

Is this not a gift beyond price? My first kiss ever? What if I ultimately saved it and gave it to you and you only? Wouldn’t that be a story worth telling?

Well now. Make no mistake. I can’t wait to kiss you. I can’t wait for that first deep, long, passionate kiss in front of our families and friends and God and the altar, one that we’ll have to cut off for propriety’s sake if not for the need of air. I can’t wait to kiss you when we get to the honeymoon suite, no holds barred.

I can’t wait for those endless, sweet kisses, drinking and breathing each other in thirstily and enjoying the mutual trust and love.

I can’t wait for the welcome-home kisses, the tender goodnight kisses that turn into three and four or more, those wonderful good-morning kisses, the best possible way to wake up. Those surprises kisses where I sneak up behind you and dip you low to the ground.

I can’t wait for the kisses through tears. I can’t wait for the quiet kisses while you hold our sleeping son or daughter in your arms. I can’t wait for those times where life bears down and you burrow your head in my chest and I kiss your forehead to comfort and reassure you. I can’t wait for those middle-aged, seasoned kisses where it’s as easy and as habitual as breathing. We’re going to take such sacred moments for granted one day, and it will be wonderful!

Kisses hello, kisses goodbye, kisses goodnight, kisses in the rain, kisses just for the fun of it. Kisses where we look at each other from across the room, in the middle of common, ordinary everyday things and suddenly there’s a fire that brims out of your eyes and I can’t do anything but say “get over here” and start loving on you.

Heavens, Darling. I hope you get here soon. We’ve got a lot of life to get started on!

Love always,
Beren

August 20, 2012 Posted by | Anticipation | Leave a comment

What If It’s Me?

“Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses? 
You been out ridin’ fences for so long now 
Oh, you’re a hard one 
I know that you got your reasons 
These things that are pleasin’ you 
Can hurt you somehow 

Now it seems to me, some fine things 
Have been laid upon your table 
But you only want the ones that you can’t get…”

Dear Darling,

Maybe I am too picky. Maybe I am stubborn and walled off. In all honesty, some very fine options have presented themselves. Things that should fit the description of what I said I was looking for. Some very fine options exist which do not fit everything I seek, and yet they are very fine indeed.

But I can’t change the way I feel. I told you before, I have tried to ignore, suppress and silence passion, sentiment, emotion. They do not serve me well. Here, passion must be allowed her say. The horse will not pursue that trail unless given her head, just a little.

What makes feeling, and is it my fault for not having it? I know of a few young ladies who should rival the very things I claim to seek. And the feeling I am letting them down or denying them the happiness when it is within my power to grant it bows my spirit low sometimes:

She: “I don’t understand. You are all that I seek.”
He: “But you are not all that I seek.”
She: “What do you seek, then?”
He: “Lady, I know not. I know nothing of love. I know only when it is not.”

To have within my grasp the rise or fall of a woman’s happiness is a grave burden indeed; one feels selfish to deny it for the sake of one’s own happiness.

But I can’t change the way I feel. And have I not the right to choose for my own happiness as well? Have I no right to be selfish? I don’t feel with them; and my happiness counts too. Sometimes I think I should feel. Sometimes I wonder if it’s me, and if I should discard these most inconvenient of sentiments and simply pursue a prudent match, trusting to the notion of elder days that love will come in time.

Lurking in my mind, huddled in the corner is the question I dare not ask: What if it’s me? What if I am my own enemy?

I know I can make someone very happy. But I too seek happiness. Shall I be denied this final hope for the sake of others?

How does one create feelings that don’t exist? Yet how long does one chase the sunrise before growing up?

What if it’s me? What if it isn’t? And what if I never have the chance to answer these questions?

God only knows.

Love always,
Beren

“Desperado, why don’t you come to your senses? 
Come down from your fences, open the gate 
It may be rainin’, but there’s a rainbow above you 
You better let somebody love you, before it’s too late.”

August 17, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness | Leave a comment

21 Things You Should Know About Me

1. Christ will always come first. Always. You will be my second love, Darling, and our lives, our decisions and our choices will always be governed by my King and His Word.

2. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.

3. No one term describes me. I can be introverted or extroverted. I can be fastidious about punctuality…or I can not worry about it. Sometimes I’m concerned with the details of a plan (“yes, but HOW?”) and sometimes I’m more about the general principle. Sometimes it’s easy to identify and explain that principle, and sometimes the ultimate cause behind something escapes me. Sometimes the thought of doing absolutely nothing repulses me, and sometimes that’s all I want to do. Most of the time I’m a stickler about the rules and not going rogue or being a rebel, and sometimes I recognize the difference between guidelines and laws or forgiveness and permission. Sometimes I can be incessantly philosophical, and sometimes brutally practical. Certain things are completely non-negotiable in my life, and many others are completely flexible. Sometimes I’m a decisive leader, and other times I feel neither the confidence nor the motivation to take the reins. I can be critical and judgmental voice, but also offer the most encouragement you’ve heard in a while. Sometimes I make up my mind quickly, and other times I spend time sifting through the options. Most of the time, I bury feelings and rely on reason and intellect, but those feelings will find a way out later on. Sometimes I’ll plan, sometimes I’ll trust myself to improvise. (It usually works out either way.) Sometimes I’d like to be out with a crowd of people, and sometimes I’d like to just be alone. Sometimes I’d like to go find adventure, and sometimes I just want to doze on the front porch swing. I’m a mix.

4. I’ve always felt older.

5. I feel left behind and left out by the world…and that this is necessary, because I cannot join with them in their choices.

6. I’m a renaissance man who likes trying his hand at several different things, like piano, photography, literature, guns, horses, foreign language, travel, throwing knives, business, law, economics, fitness, medicine and art.

7. Most people assume I’m not a fun guy. I am, it just takes a while to get to know that side of things.

8. I can be a workaholic sometimes. Sometimes.

9. I like things clean and orderly, and sometimes I enjoy the process of cleaning things up.

10. I’m never quite sure I’ll be good enough, but somehow I’ve fooled the people who are (or pretend to be) that I am too.

11. I’m a night owl. I get brainstorms at night, and I’ll be up until 2 or 3 in the morning writing.

12. By the time it comes down to a discussion with someone else, I’ve probably already thought about almost all the angles. In an argument, I will either concede defeat or beat you back with eviscerating logic.

13. I don’t like to watch much TV. But sometimes, a show or two at nights helps me unwind.

14. I’m freakishly tall. Some people also tell me I’m handsome. One girl admired my straight teeth.

15. I care too much. I’ve chosen to avoid darkness as much as possible. That means darkness presses in on me that much more, like the tons of pressure that exist in the depths of the sea. Sin bothers me a lot and sometimes I become depressed about the things people do. I have high standards for myself and, in keeping them, assume that everyone else should be able to as well, because who would have thought an insignificant nobody like me could outpace so many?

16. I get contemplative and wistful, sad and pensive, thoughtful and philosophical pretty often.

17. I have thick skin, unless it’s a close friend. Give me enough time and I can overlook or move on from an argument or an offense. Sometimes this is a problem if someone else is still mad.

18. I’m a writer. I don’t know when that happened.

19. I can be kind of vengeful sometimes. If you don’t have time for me, and you keep not having time for me, odds are I’ll wind up not having time for you. I periodically go through my Facebook friends and if I decide you haven’t demonstrated any initiative for keeping in touch, and if I don’t know you that well and don’t care to, I will remove you. A friend of mine (one with the closest kinship in principle and morality) recently got married and didn’t invite me. I was later told it was an oversight, but he has not apologized nor been in contact. I removed him from my friends. If you don’t have time to remember me, I shouldn’t have time to remember you. If I keep texting you to ask how you’re doing and you don’t reply, or if I invite you to a group activity and you ignore me or don’t come, sooner or later I’ll assume you don’t want anything to do with me, and will respond accordingly.

20. I’m pretty sure I’m going to run for public office one day. Or something important with leadership. I have a hunch older enemies and pretty much all of my extended family that didn’t want anything to do with me will show up to see me. The thought of turning them away gives me more pleasure than it should.

21. I want people to know me and ask about me. I like to talk about myself as much as the next guy, but I try not to volunteer much about myself initially. First, because it often comes across as bragging since (aside from crushing loneliness and feeling neglected and abandoned by the world and my peers) I live a pretty great life. Second, I’m not going to offer a tremendous amount of detail about myself to someone who doesn’t care. You have to prove to me that you care. I’m always on the lookout for that caring person. When I offer a few vague, brief details about how I’m doing and then turn the conversation back to you, it’s by design. It’s a test. If you do the same and then ask specific and detailed questions because you’re interested, I will feel free to share more with you.

August 16, 2012 Posted by | About Me | Leave a comment

Can You Love Me That Much?

Dear Darling,

Do you think you could love me the way I ask? The way I plan to love you, the way I love you even now? Could you? Dare I hope?

Remember that scene in It’s A Wonderful Life, where George has just used his own savings to rescue the Building & Loan from the monopolistic Mr. Potter, and is so determined he forgets he’s married, and then finds his bride has made their home in an abandoned and run-down house? A bed is prepared, food is made ready, a table is set, and she stands serenely anticipating the arrival of her husband: “Welcome home Mr. Bailey.”

Could you love me like that?

Do you think you could meet me where I am? Could you go above and beyond to win my love? Could you try to make me the happiest man in the world, would things become important to you only because they’re important to me? Would you seek out the things in my heart and try to make them real for me? Would you sometimes put my preferences first, just because you love me?

Can you spur me on to greater things in life? Can you gently and painlessly rebuke me, hint at a necessary change in my tone, attitude or outlook?

Could you text me, not just because you want to know how I’m doing, but because you know I need to have someone ask? I’m not going to lie…when I wake up, I check my phone first thing. I want to see if I’ve received any e-mails during the night, or any texts. One (former) prospect did this often, sending texts for me to wake up to.

Could you come to the end of the day, having survived either a rough day at work or a rough day at home, and be on your last nerve, and press yourself to prepare a warm meal…just because you know I’ve had a hard day?

When you ask me how I’m doing, can you see through my attempts to deflect? Can you throw aside your own cares, narrow in on mine, take my face in your hands and order me to stop avoiding the question and let someone care about me for a change?

Would you exercise with me because you know I sometimes fret about winding up being married to someone who is overweight and inattentive to her appearance?

Could you plan a meal, a trip, a party, just to surprise me?

Can you dig me out of myself? I need you to. It might take holding your nose, it might take diving into a place no one has ever willingly gone, but I need you to try. I need you to have gritted determination to help me, so much that you’ll push past my own defenses.

The switch from Capra to Wheedon is hardly gradual, but did you ever see the scene in the film Serenity where the crew is all stuck and surrounded by the animalistic Reavers, and the deceptively cunning yet innocent River says “You take care of me, Simon. You’ve always taken care of me. My turn.” She then commits a heroic act to save the crew and protect her friend.

Would you fight for me? Would you stand with me, even if it meant against impossible odds, against the whole world? Would your love for me be so great that you could never imagine being with another, could never imagine a life happier than the one you chose with me?

I don’t have to be the happiest man in the world. I just want to be the happiest I’ve ever been. I just hope I can find someone who plans in her heart to give me as much happiness as I plan to give.

There’s not much that makes me tremble, love. But the thought of missing out on that, life’s greatest adventure, is one.

Love always,
-Beren

August 15, 2012 Posted by | Loneliness, Who I Need You To Be | 2 Comments