Love letter # 350

We are, both of us, old enough to understand that some things can’t be fought. Neither will they be solved or made better with wishing, ideology, or just ‘going along’.

It’s true – I could simply use you for the sex and kindness you are offering; but then, what happens when the deed is done and the generosity starts to seem one sided?

And what kind of person would that make me?

Much as this moment is awkward, awful and a wrench for us, in a month – six months, a year – we will both be glad it happened this way. I realise that this is an easy and perhaps righteous thing to say, but I suspect you know it’s true.

I will not apologise for not being ‘in love’ with you but I will say sorry if I inadvertently gave you hope or caused you pain. Maybe I tried too hard to be kind and, in indulging this weakness, I twisted the knife much more. I tried to limit what I knew had to be your suffering because, selfishly, I wanted to limit my own. I do not claim noble self-sacrifice as a motivation.

Yet neither do I wallow in the vain drama of middle class guilt. We are, none of us, perfect or above reproach, especially when feelings are high and desire clouds our judgement. I know that you came at this with the best intentions – with love, compassion, openness, good humour and a giving attitude – but, if anything, we are both at fault for failing to best manage the mis-match, thereby losing our beautiful and extraordinary friendship along the way.

Love may well offer us everything we wish for but in its brightly shining eye it also blinds the mere mortals in its sway, and asks us to render everything unto its power. We are but two more fools paying the price.