A Profound Letter Explaining the Derivative of My Lust For <i>You</i>

Unlike any other man I have known, I find myself madly drawn to the simple things you do. Your wisdom, shy wit, & withdrawn nature have lured the girl in me, into the unknown darkness of the night. Typically, I would only have entertained the idea of your feelings for me, all the while mocking them in my various social circles. How could a man of his stature want anything to do with a veritable train wreck like myself? I shriek this while lingering at the bar, pouting lasciviously (as you know I tend to), at this man or that—whomever unluckily finds himself in my presence.

The men I meet have simply been hosts, parasitic in their ability to seem continually empty, when compared with my lack of desire for their total being. They are periodic companions, hastily chided by my failure to reciprocate their feelings. And well, I simply could not pour my soul to someone harboring the intellectual, emotional, and psychological capacity of a hand puppet. So I never have.

Since I can remember, enchanting men has been a game I excel in like chess, or darts, or drinking. I romance them with my gift for theatrics and a general lack of interest in anything they have to say. Rejection, I have come to understand is the most poignant aphrodisiac. Once, while passionately embracing a lover, I found myself pruriently pressing the tip of my finger against his lips, as if to indicate my complete and total inability to continue listening to his lackluster blathering. I quickly and effectively explained to him exactly what I wanted without complicating matters with words. Because actions speak louder, or so they say. Least of all, I wanted their hearts because mine was quite obviously not being offered. I would light a cigarette, & dress while thanking them for their time without any further desire to be with them.

What I succumb to is more than I could ever have imagined. A man I find entertaining on every level, whom I can continue making love to nights on end, whose kisses send me plummeting into an opera of sighs and swoons. Your slick conversation enchants the center of my brain where my words mingle secretly, unshared with most. With you, I don’t believe it would be the same without our intimate exchange of words, the slight banter to engage and tantalize one another’s secret desires.

Even with the intimacy of our rendezvous, I do not think we could have been any more different. Everyone I knew would comment on how wrong we were for one another. Over friendly drinks with various cohorts, I would find my feelings for you subject to extreme scrutiny. You don’t actually think you’re going to want to be with one man, do you? I mean, you do realize it won't work because he is completely wrong for you! Under their perusal I found myself questioning our differences, & eventually contemplating the end of our affair. With all my attempts to leave, I could only find excuses to stay. How could I resist you? You’ve never fawned or swooned over the things I’ve done, but rather treated me as an academic equal. Your thoughts rival my own, setting every part of me on fire. With you, I burn from the inside out, an inferno ignited more so by your brilliance than your bow-like lips.

What I mean to say is--I can never go back to my former ways, what is sex without the furtive intellectual stimulation of your lover? How could I spend so many nights gripping the sheets and screaming names of people I had no interest in speaking to? What have you done to me, to the way I was? By changing the way I need to be satisfied you’ve etched your name into my soul. And as my life continues I will be forever grateful to the lessons you have taught me, as they are perpetuating flowers blooming for years to come.

Forever,

Yours