Love letter # 48

That space I said I wanted – it turned out to be emptiness. And what was it that I saw in that so-called freedom I insisted upon? Oh yeah, that was it: green grass.

More like astro-turf. Synthetic. Nothing like real.

So yeah, I trawled the bars, a dog sniffing out novelty. But I couldn’t do it. I just sat there in new jeans and awkwardness; and I slunk back to my flat in a fog of booze and hormones.

I looked into the bathroom mirror and wondered who the hell I was. What I saw was miles below perfection. So why did I expect it in you?

Am I just greedy for angels? Do I want the girl in the film – the impossible one? Fat chance, when I have so little to offer her.

You have been gracious enough to share your love with me – your sweat and sex – your messy morning moodiness. You have been good enough to forgive me my innumerable flaws.

And in return, I retreated into a fantasy of … what? I don’t even know. If I thought I could get ‘something better’ I was either a fool or an arsehole. Both really.

You know how much I loathe corny sayings – but ‘love the one you’re with’ springs to mind. What I wanted was right there beside me – was holding my hand all along.

Doubtless you will be saying: “Yeah well, you’re a little late, sunshine.” Doubtless I will deserve your now icy shoulder. I voted with my feet and you quite rightly walked away.

For what it’s worth, I pray that you will soon be with someone who loves you better. In the meantime, please accept these inept apologies. I’m sure they will ring hollow but, I swear to God …

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