I’ve got a lot of feelings that I’ve been trying to process since I heard from you yesterday. There are a lot of things I’d like for you to know, so I am going to write them out here. There is a part of me that feels like I am being selfish even wanting to tell you all these things, and I am afraid that you will think I am taking what you are going through and making it somehow about me. But I don’t know how else to process this all, and I guess there is hope in me that somehow what I have to say will help you feel better in some way, or maybe it will help you somehow to understand where I am coming from. I don’t know.
The more I think about what you said yesterday in your text, when you compared me to your ex-wife and her selfishness, and the inability you now seem to feel to trust not just me, but anyone, the more it makes me feel really fucking bad. I feel horrible that I caused such turmoil in your life. You seemed like you were in a good place before you met me, and now it seems like I came into your life and just wrecked your peace of mind. You trusted me, and now I feel like I’ve made you regret opening yourself up to someone and less likely to do it again anytime soon. And I feel fucking awful about that. I want you to know that people aren’t all bad, that you can trust me, that I would never do that to you again. I feel like somehow if you knew how shitty it made me feel to keep that from you, how much I struggled to tell you, and how difficult it was for me to finally tell you, maybe you would be more likely to realize that I’m not a shitty person, that I’m not like your ex because I did end up telling you, I did end up putting your feelings first, even though what I was most afraid of, the reason I found it so hard to tell you, is exactly what happened: you stopped talking to me. I was so afraid that because I hadn’t told you right away, once I did finally tell you, things would be over and I would not get to have you in my life anymore. And that’s why I struggled for two weeks to tell you. There was a part of me that wanted to pretend like there was nothing to talk about, no need to ruin things. But I also knew that I cared about you, and that if there was any chance of us continuing to be any kind of friends/lovers/whatever, I couldn’t not tell you. I couldn’t allow our relationship to continue with dishonesty hanging over it. And I also knew that telling you was the right, and fair, thing to do. So I did. And now it’s totally fucked everything up, not just for us and any relationship we might have had, but it seems like it’s really thrown you into a bad place and caused you to question how you can trust someone again. And that, I think, is what I regret more than anything. Yes, I am really fucking sad that you won’t talk to me anymore, but it hurts me even worse to know that I’ve caused you such distress. And I really want to talk to you about it, to help you process, to try and make you feel better, but I also understand that I caused this, and so why would you want to talk to me about it.
Also, and I guess this is really the more selfish part, I just miss talking to you. I miss sharing music with you. I have been discovering new music lately, and constantly hearing things that I want to share with you. I’ve made you a playlist, but I don’t feel I can send it to you. There have also been so many things that have happened these past few weeks, so much shit that I’ve been working through that I really wished I could have talked to you about. For example, I got divorced, and as I officially closed the book on a 12-year period of my life, I finally started dealing with some of that grief that I had been pretending didn’t exist for the past few months. Turns out, I wasn’t “doing so well” after all. My mood swings have been epic. Some days I am fine, some days I keep myself distracted by working, or having fun with friends, or going to shows; other days I can’t eat or sleep, others I have a bowling ball of anxiety that sits in my stomach, and still others I can’t stop crying. And some days I have all of those in one day. I’ve been getting better at sitting with my feelings, allowing them to come and go, and not trying to distract myself from them. I have gone on some road trips, which have been good for solitary, head-clearing time.
I’ve also gone on a few dates. And something you said when I first left Edinburgh keeps coming back to me. You said something like, “getting laid is easy, as you will find, but finding someone you connect with is much harder.” Every person I’ve gone out with, and granted, there have only been a few, has been held up to the standard you set, and has not even come close. None of them have been as easy to talk to, as openly communicative, as emotionally intelligent, as funny, as interesting, and yes, as handsome, as you were on that epically awesome first date we had. I’m not trying to say that you are “the one” or anything like that, or that I’ll never find that again in someone, but I am saying that I am starting to realize that it’s not going to be so easy to find someone with whom I feel as intellectually and emotionally connected as I did with you. I get it now.
I don’t really know how to end this letter. I know that you are not interested in dating or in anything romantic, and that is not what I am looking for from you. I just want to be in touch with you again, to be someone you can talk to, to be your friend. But if that can’t happen, I at least want you to know how sorry I am, and I want you to be able to get back to where you were before I came in and screwed everything up for you.