I was a late bloomer, met my first real love when I was 19. Wooed her with long lunches on the beach, Zima, and Bob Marley records...the first time we kissed, there were fireworks and an almost indescribable sense of relief: I was normal, and had her gum in my mouth to prove it. Five years and a million memories later, it was over. Unpacking a long-forgotten box tonight, I found a handful of photos of our time together.
I hurt her deeply. I wish I could talk to her today...
Dear Allison,
You have been on my mind a lot lately. I hope you are well. As we sneak up on 40, I find myself reminiscing about the good times of misspent youth, and you figure prominently. Rather than list the thousand little moments with you that thread like ribbons through the memories of my early 20s, let me get straight to the point.
I want you to know that I am sincerely sorry to have lied to you. I didn’t mean to, as if it matters---I was a scared kid who really didn’t know what to do. I really truly fell in love with you, and I thought if I tried hard enough, pretended long enough, I wouldn’t be gay anymore. We’d get married, have kids, and live happily ever after. Of course, in retrospect, I should have known better.
Even after all these years, I still love you. I appreciate all that you did for me, how you helped me in ways both obvious and not-so-much. The five years we were together remain among the most formative and fun of my life. You showed me the beauty and joy of real love for the first time outside of my family, and I will never forget it. I wish that I could repay you somehow---that somehow I could will you into the most profound happiness, the most pain-free and joy filled life imaginable.
It was great to hear from you on my answering machine a couple of years ago. You were very brave to call, and sweet to wish me a happy and full life. I wish you would’ve left your number. I understand that you probably didn’t leave your number on purpose---that your message was The End for you, letting go finally and forever. To attempt to reach you would undoubtedly be a selfish act on my part. Still, I feel compelled to write this to you, knowing you will likely never read it. Life has funny ways of surprising us...maybe, someday. Or maybe not.
I just found an old photo on which you wrote, “I love you! You are my best friend.” I don’t remember now if I said it at the time, but either way, I want you to know that I love you too. You were my best friend too. Hurting you is my greatest regret. I’ve been carrying the guilt around for a decade, and am finally ready to let it go.
I am very sorry, and I hope you have the happiest and fullest life ever.
Always yours,
S
