I didn’t plan on falling for you this summer. When I joined the archaeological dig, I was a wounded person who needed to get away. I was incomplete and broken. And I think somehow you knew that, because you were broken in your own way as well.
You would get me through the long, hot days when we sifted bucket after bucket of artifacts to no avail. We’d chatter, tease and debate over any given subject. It was wonderful.
I will never forget watching the falling stars from the top of Boot Hill and drinking whisky with T and J.O.. It will be forever one of my favorite memories. I was hoping you would come to tea with T and I. I think you would have had fun, but duty called, and I understand.
I almost cried during the Follies because I know how unhappy we both were when the love song came on. And I almost killed you with my laughter when the actor started hitting on J.O. and the Professor.
I wish I’d have met you sooner. I know we’d be good together.
But I’m unhappily irresponsible, and you’re unhappily married. Our friendship will be cherished, and nothing more.
I want nothing more than for you to find the happiness you deserve, even with someone else. And hopefully not from someone who will drive you to drink an entire bottle of Jack while I’m not looking.
Maybe someone who will drink it with you this time.
I won’t ever forget what you taught me; to love myself and to accept that I can make mistakes. And most of all, that I don’t have to settle for anything less than what I deserve. I just hope you can take your own advice.
I like to, J.D., and I wish you the very best.