Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Various and Sundry Thoughts, Pt. 4

“Just stare into space
Picture my face in your hands
Live for each second without hesitation
And never forget I’m your man
Wait on me girl
Cry in the night if it helps
But more than ever I simply love you
More than I love life itself
And I guess that’s why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you
Laughing like children, living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that’s why they call it the blues.”
– Elton John

Dear Darling,

It’s supposed to be a blue moon tonight. A rare occasion, they say, not to occur again for two years. Blue indeed. I walked under it tonight…or, rather, under cloudlight, with the precious remnants of Hurricane Isaac gingerly patting my shoulders. I mentioned it before, but it’s funny to me how life is intensifying even more. Balancing two jobs, activism, writing, studying and classes while fitting eating, sleeping, family and relaxation in there somewhere. Everything otherwise in life is going well. The only complaint I have is that I can’t find you.

In other words, the only thing missing is everything.

It doesn’t help to watch the TV shows or movies I’ve lately seen about the difficulties with love, or the frustration with being kept apart from your lover.

Every man needs a pretty face to smile at him, Darling. Every man needs someone to call his own…and who will call him her own. To kiss his cheek and remind him she’s proud of him. To hand him her jars and ask him to open them. To grab his tie, pull him in for a kiss and remind him he’s her man, and she’s his woman. To sigh in contentment when he puts his arms around her, and tell him it feels like home. To yawn and say “I don’t feel like cooking, let’s just go out tonight” and then fret because she doesn’t have anything to wear. To put her hand on my bare chest, slowly twirling the hair as she reminds him he’s the only one who will ever hold her heart, or her body. To wake him up with a gently-breathed whisper and a kiss. To make the bed or wash his laundry if he needs it, to make him feel loved and needed and wanted and useful.

Every man needs that.

Sometimes, it feels like all these “leads” have cropped up for me, either girls interested in me, or the ones I’ve been interested in. They all seem to get cut off at the neck, before I’m even afforded a chance to pursue them. Each start seems false, I can’t seem to find that right connection where I feel the spark and so does she, and we both align with our views and our feelings and our personalities. I have a hunch it’s going to be magical when we do, but until then, it’s pretty lonely.

I saw “Friend-Zone” again the other day. She was laughing with her friends and didn’t see me. I wished it was me making her laugh. If she were to return and apologize for being rude, and explain that she was still a virgin and might be willing to go out with me, it would be a welcome warmth on this cold heart.

At the same time, I’m left dumbfounded when reaching out to a woman who is struggling intensely, trying to comfort and be a friend even though she has slighted me. She refuses to show weakness, and instead lashes out at me. She and I could be so great if she simply stopped being, frankly, a jerk.

And then on a side note, I find it amused that someone who claims to be Wiccan thought I would ever be interested in her, even after knowing who I am and where I stand.

Darling, you will pardon me if I sometimes overdramatize these encounters in my mind. I don’t mean to be melodramatic when I talk about the various who’s and what-if’s that have wandered in and out of my life. You may read them and think I’ve been starstruck and crestfallen at each of a dozen fair beauties in the world. In the first place, these requisite but primitive and perhaps premature sentiments impact me on a very deep level. They touch me in a place few (if any) can reach. They are meaningful, and in ejecting them onto a page, I achieve both the goal of processing and sorting it through in my brain, and using my heart as a sort-of paintbrush to tell my story.

There are things that come to my mind every day that I know I’ll never remember to tell you, feelings and memories and thoughts that I have to preserve for you…and for me.

I think I need to stop caring so much.

Just once, though, just once I’d like to find someone who gives me that zing, who I can give that zing to. Just once! We can be mutually attracted to each other, we can talk easily, there’s no drama, and we can relax and be happy to spend time together. I’ve got all these dates and ideas. I see concerts and events, I hear of attractions and movies, and I think about how I want to go with you.

I love you, Darling.

Yours,
Beren

September 1, 2012 Posted by | Nights Like These, Sundry Thoughts | Leave a comment