Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

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