A Month Of Letters ~ To Someone I Love

For December I’m doing a month of letters. #2: A letter to someone I love

white black and red person carrying heart illustration in brown envelope
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Dear Someone I Love,

Hello Someone, it is me. Though I could, I won’t mention your name, for the sake of privacy. 

You walked onto my stage after the curtain had come down on a failed marriage to the love of my life, and a few failed relationships with men who simply could not accept that I could never give them the piece of my heart I had given to him. Him being the ex-husband, the leading man in my script. See, when I married it was forever, sickness, health and all that jazz we say up there in our covenant between God and each other. I never would have entered into something as binding and serious if I had not already given him a love that came from the core of my heart. I did not break this bond, he did, and he shattered my heart and soul. I healed and moved on, but there is a part of my heart that will never be mine to give to anyone else because it was part of that covenant between us and God, I cannot seem to take it back. I still can love, but never at that depth again for some reason. Perhaps because it was Divinely sealed that day?

When we met I was not at all sure how I felt about you, having been broken by one, and bruised by several others. A wall was solidly around my emotions but over time you wore that down and managed to creep inside a small space I allowed for you. Things seemed to be going well, we got along for the most part. You were quite the smart ass with comments and such on my Facebook posts and in texts, many were likely attempts at humor but I took them the wrong way and they stung at times. Still, I was pretty sure I would be content being with you, and even loved you in a special way that was yours alone. We never were intimate because you respected that I was not going there outside of marriage due to renewed, re-grounded faith. I knew you were a keeper when we traveled south for you to do some preparation to move to that gulf shore city. We shared a room, and a bed, but nothing more and it was so refreshing to me that I had found a guy who went to church with me every week, honored my wishes etc. I was opening up more and giving you more of what was left of my heart, and it all seemed so good. 

Then came that day, the last one we spent together, when you dropped me off after church so you could go home and sleep for work that night. During the course of our conversation you made it clear you would never marry me, or anyone else. You were never making that commitment again. I realized that I would have to give up my standards that were biblical based, or give up you. I was not moving 1,000 miles away from my family and support network for someone would was not willing to commit in a permanent way. You moved south and I put my heart back in ICU to heal.

Now, all these years later, for the second time you’ve moved back north. You want to return to that city on the sand, and want me to go with you. Despite the many times you have asked, I’ve turned down dates with you. Yes, like it or not, for the health of my residents I refuse to go ‘out’ beyond necessity. But also because you once again feel my relationship requirements are too strict, though biblically based. You also feel I need to loosen up, have a few drinks, or else I’m considered ‘boring’ by you. For whatever reason you are unable to accept that I am an alcoholic and cannot drink. You are wanting to return to church, dating me or not, but don’t want to live by the teachings of scripture when it comes to intimacy or respect my sobriety. I am “wasting all that woman” you tell me. This tells me much about your heart, it is not in this like my own would be, and it is just wrong to toy with my emotions this way.

So, while yes, I still love you, and think we’d make a good couple, I will not date you. Will not move south with you. Ever. I wish you only the best, hope you find a suitable friend with benefits that is enough woman to keep you happy in bed. It just won’t be me.