Because I’ve scoured this site looking for a letter from you with no success, I’ll write one for you; the first person who ever called me gorgeous. We met four years ago. We instantly became friends. You were hilarious, witty and unbelievably sexual. I was care-free, naive and unbelievably available. We were thrown into a bubble, of sorts, for all of July and I fell for you in your window seat as we watched thunderstorms, learned each other and laughed from the heart. I tried so hard not to kiss you, but in retrospect I wish that I had. That summer; those summer night walks by the pond and summer days under the trees; was something special. It was so clear that we were into each other, but it all became a muddled mess when your girlfriend showed up.
After practically living with you in your room and cuddling every night, we fell apart on our very last night together. I held out hope that you really would follow through with your promise. That promise that assured our future together. The day never came but I secretly still wait for it. Even though we’re both in relationships, there’s a small part of me that’s still curious about us. When I see you, when I’m around you, I feel it. I think you do too, but you’re afraid to admit/confront it.
I think I could make you happier than her. I know I could love you hard. I wish that someday I’ll have the courage to tell you all this to your face. I want you to know me again. I want to cuddle again.
Take a chance with me. Drop everything and kiss me on the mouth. After all, it was you who said that the world needs more free spirits.