(This letter was triggered by me pondering aloud how i would feel if pam were in better shape. The wheels fell off the wagon.)
Dear pam,
It all started with your comment about liking how in shape i was, and that you'd only ever been with one other man similarly so. I was surprised that such things registered in your mind in a positive/sexy way. I was also pleased, because i liked pleasing you...and because it opened the door to us talking about shallowness, as something we shared.
I often fall back on "treat each other the way you want to be treated". And i need truth on a different level from most people. I don't want to love some idea of "you", i want to love YOU...every hidden thought, warts and all. That's how i equate love.
I also thought you might be impressed, or comforted, to know that i didn't care about your aging, or any other surface bullshit. I thought that might be the most comforting thing you've ever heard from a lover.
Because that's the most loving, comforting thing i myself could hear.
But you aren't me, and i sometimes disrespect that in dealing with others.
What's getting lost in all this unhappiness is that you're probably the least shallow romance i've ever had. I was proud of that, and wanted you to be proud too!
But in this world, i don't think anyone ever banishes their demons of shallowness. Control them? Maybe. They'll always be there, though. Anyone who tells you differently is probably lying (to you, or themselves).
And so (this is what i do to myself), i constantly ask whether there's anything i've said to you that's less than 100% honest. Or if there's anything unsaid, you would want to know. These are the thoughts that keep me up at night. You see that kind of honesty as counter-productive, and fuck yes, it can be. But i see it as the only way out of the press agent bullshit we all accept as a substitute for real friendship, real love.
If you'd been telling me all along the things about me you find unattractive or might have fantasies of changing, i would have felt like we were really breathing.
Was i trying to impose my values? A little. But you were talking about loving me, and i knew that was never going to be real without you knowing my full truth...even when it's clumsy, or hurtful.
Like now.
I'm sorry, sweet songbird. I've been torn, with the knowledge of our time limitations meaning we might never get past the press agent stage...knowing that, should i just relax and be loving in the way you define it, if we're a source of comfort and happiness for each other? Or should i keep pushing for raw honesty? Either path is fraught with pitfalls. Especially for two people who see sex and love differently. If possessiveness weren't central to your vision of love and sex, would you have given a fig about me imagining a more "in shape" you? When it's not something that affects my desire to be with you?
That doesn't mean it wasn't insensitive of me. My chest hurts, knowing that you're hurting.
Our differences don't have to define us...with aligned expectations, they can be almost no issue at all.
A part of me has always been saddened that you've never said you want to end our romance*, because our friendship is too important. In my mind, that means there's some aspect of our friendship i'm probably fucking up.
Another part of me is so humbled that you talk about having the best sex of your life with me, that all i can think of is just holding you and never analyzing anything.
your fool,
wrob
I often fall back on "treat each other the way you want to be treated". And i need truth on a different level from most people. I don't want to love some idea of "you", i want to love YOU...every hidden thought, warts and all. That's how i equate love.
I also thought you might be impressed, or comforted, to know that i didn't care about your aging, or any other surface bullshit. I thought that might be the most comforting thing you've ever heard from a lover.
Because that's the most loving, comforting thing i myself could hear.
But you aren't me, and i sometimes disrespect that in dealing with others.
What's getting lost in all this unhappiness is that you're probably the least shallow romance i've ever had. I was proud of that, and wanted you to be proud too!
But in this world, i don't think anyone ever banishes their demons of shallowness. Control them? Maybe. They'll always be there, though. Anyone who tells you differently is probably lying (to you, or themselves).
And so (this is what i do to myself), i constantly ask whether there's anything i've said to you that's less than 100% honest. Or if there's anything unsaid, you would want to know. These are the thoughts that keep me up at night. You see that kind of honesty as counter-productive, and fuck yes, it can be. But i see it as the only way out of the press agent bullshit we all accept as a substitute for real friendship, real love.
If you'd been telling me all along the things about me you find unattractive or might have fantasies of changing, i would have felt like we were really breathing.
Was i trying to impose my values? A little. But you were talking about loving me, and i knew that was never going to be real without you knowing my full truth...even when it's clumsy, or hurtful.
Like now.
I'm sorry, sweet songbird. I've been torn, with the knowledge of our time limitations meaning we might never get past the press agent stage...knowing that, should i just relax and be loving in the way you define it, if we're a source of comfort and happiness for each other? Or should i keep pushing for raw honesty? Either path is fraught with pitfalls. Especially for two people who see sex and love differently. If possessiveness weren't central to your vision of love and sex, would you have given a fig about me imagining a more "in shape" you? When it's not something that affects my desire to be with you?
That doesn't mean it wasn't insensitive of me. My chest hurts, knowing that you're hurting.
Our differences don't have to define us...with aligned expectations, they can be almost no issue at all.
A part of me has always been saddened that you've never said you want to end our romance*, because our friendship is too important. In my mind, that means there's some aspect of our friendship i'm probably fucking up.
Another part of me is so humbled that you talk about having the best sex of your life with me, that all i can think of is just holding you and never analyzing anything.
your fool,
wrob
*This is a measure she uses to define how important someone is to her.
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