The Paper Trail, Dear John Department

I love the tradition of letter-writing. Here’s why: First, I’ve always been more articulate on paper than in person. Second, the fact that letters occur on paper gives me great satisfaction. I think any document seems more assertive and serious in hard copy. And paper lasts a lifetime — unlike digital files (my hotmail account is reaching its storage limit yet again.) Third, letter-writing proves to the letter-recipient that I handle my emotions in a contemplative, intelligent, and pre-meditated manner, therefore I’m probably the most classy, logical, and organized woman you’ll ever lose.

May this selection of letters I’ve written to various guys throughout the ages inspire you to write letters of your own.


Jan 2002 [excerpt]

Dear Barista Boy*

Point blank, you’re not The One because I don’t intend to marry you. I’m 99% sure that you feel the same way about me. But what’s the point of all this? We could just go on, as we have been, for years, until some force, either internal (we grow to hate each other) or external (you get sent to Africa to update their computers) splits us up. Or we could bide time and have some fun doing so.

The thing that’s been on my mind these days is the question: what am I missing while I bide my time? Am I missing opportunities to meet people, both friends and lovers, because so much of my time and energy is spent with you? Could I be better in school without the demands of a relationship? Could I be in a club or be writing a novel? These questions weren’t so pressing a year or even a few months ago because at the time, I felt like we were still growing and learning from each other. Now we’re at a stand-still.

I didn’t get into this relationship, or any, actively looking for a life-long mate. It occurred to me somewhere in the middle that, in fact, I WAS looking and had been all along. That’s what dating is. A trial period before you decide to either get serious or split and find someone else. And I realize this may be coming from left field for you…or perhaps not. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been distant lately. Well, I’ve been distant all along. I’ve just made excuses. Every time you ask me what’s wrong and I reply, “nothing,” there’s been tons wrong, I just couldn’t bring it up for fear that it’d be over if I opened the can of worms that is my heart.

Love Jules


[CAN OF WORMS THAT IS MY HEART? Way to go, Shakespeare.]


Nov 13, 2006

Dear Mofo*

This letter is telling you that I don’t want to see you anymore. I feel this way because it hurts to beg for scraps of your time. Since you took me aside at the Imperial and gave me the “let’s see where this goes” spiel a month ago, you’ve asked out on just two dates. I typically don’t give people multiple chances to get it right, but you keep saying you care, and I care enough about you to see what you’ve got. But nothing’s changed. Six months later and you still make excuses for not following through with your actions. No shyness, ex-girlfriend, job stress, or family shit should stop you from wanting to see me. Cause if you were open to it, I could make you feel better about all those things.

I hate that you ushered me into the cab like a leper on Friday, after I had dragged my friends to the Imperial because I wanted to see you. Then I didn’t hear from you all weekend…not even a text. The fact that you do, sometimes, call is a non-issue because you do it only because I told you to. And I wasn’t about to call you and beg — again — for your attention. YOU were the one on shaky ground who had to prove yourself to me. Looks like I was right to be skeptical that anything would be different the third time around.

It sucks that you keep getting my hopes up and then disappointing me. Am I just the most convenient woman to have a quasi-relationship with? That’s lame. I’m no-one’s last resort. I’m a catch. And clearly, you don’t think so, or you would have tried harder to catch me. So let’s quit this farce for good. No dates, no booty calls, no “I like you Jules” trickery.

See you around,
Jules


[Zing!]


April 27, 2006

Dear Coward*

As you know, I’m not into high-drama confrontations about issues that can’t be changed. So, In keeping with tradition, I’ve opted to write this letter in an attempt to release from my brain a few nagging regrets I feel about our break-up.

Clearly, it was shitty. I wasn’t expecting you to say you didn’t want to be with me in the middle of a restaurant right before I had to go to work. Had we been in private, we could have reached a clarity of expression that just wasn’t possible in a crowd of strangers slurping noodles. Then again, maybe the speed of the moment worked in our favour in that it spared us the pain of having to drag out the ugly details of our deteriorated love. But still, to honour what we did have (a generally good year) I think we owe ourselves more than a “maybe we can be friends” followed by a valley of silence.

Please don’t interpret what I have to say as a criticism — we’ve both felt enough pain. But I need to say it nonetheless. First off, you should be mindful of the fact that when someone loves you, they are inadvertently joining you on part of your life journey. I always felt like you thought you were the only one on the road. From plans for the weekend to plans for the future, you never included anyone but yourself. I still don’t know why you were afraid to include me. Maybe you never liked me that much after all. Maybe you were scared to open up and be vulnerable. Maybe you figure that YOU is all you have in this life — everyone only has themselves — but that’s just not a very nice way to live, especially when I would have been honoured to walk with you.

I wish you could have come to me with your concerns and anxieties rather than sweeping them under the rug. Cause the truth is, we both knew they were there, and for months, we chose to deny their existence. I know that part of your concerns and anxieties involved me. Unfortunately I never knew what you were really feeling cause you rarely told me. I wish you could have told me sooner that you didn’t want to be with me because directness (though harsh) is far easier to deal with than drawn-out waffling. Your indecision about your feelings took a huge toll on my confidence. You unnerved me for months. I thought you wanted a perfected version of myself rather than the real me. You never once told me what you needed from me, even when I asked you. So I tried to be what I thought you wanted, then I realized I was misusing my energy and denying my own happiness. And for what? To be honest, now that we’re apart, I feel like I can return to being the confident and happy woman I once was.

That’s not to say I don’t miss you and think about you. I might have called, had it not felt so sad and hard to do so. I heard your career is taking off at CBC, and I am genuinely proud. But keep your life-priorities in order. Don’t neglect the poet in you – he should get every opportunity to walk amongst the trees. Just allow your path to curve…and maybe you’ll bring someone along next time.

Bye,
Jules


[Nice metaphors, Jules. Wow I’m a nerd.]


*Aliases used to protect whatever dignity these guys have left.

Dedicated to Heather