unsent (part one)

Did you ever want to send a letter to someone who played an important part of your life? Did you ever want to contact them and let them know exactly what they meant to you?

I did.

I wrote letters, with the intention of leaving them unsent, to my former paramours, loves, sweethearts ... and to my various other romantic entanglements. The letters remain (and will remain unsent), but I decided to post them here, in the hopes that you might derive some small pleasure or vicarious thrill from highlights of my more romantic moments. Enjoy. (Let's just hope that I don't add you to this list anytime soon!)

Dear Cliff,

You were my first boyfriend. Thanks for being understanding of a ludicrously sensitive 18-year-old. I appreciate your tenacity at opening my mind to new possibilities: You de-programmed me from heterocentrism. Thank you for my first kiss. For all its awkwardness, it was sweetly romantic: the stumbling first step on this journey.



You will always be my perfect English gentleman, bushy eyebrows and all. Be that as it may, I can never forgive your terrible egg-drop soup.



Thank you for the day when you told me who the woman in the picture actually was -- not your sister, but your ex-wife. Kudos for the introduction to Thai massage. (I guess that marriage wasn’t entirely fruitless.) I hope your three black Yorkshire Terriers are healthy and asthma-free.





Dear Greg,

Every time I hear U2 music, I recall your piercing honesty – and how you honestly hated my early experiments with remixing. Thanks to you, I never tried to become a professional DJ. I owe you thanks for my career as a non-artist.



You and I totally ruined a dinner party by playing footsie under the table. Slammed down china and spilled wine attested to our lack of subtlety. Our host was furious!



You blew me away with your smile and your sincerity. I know we’ve had our static. Insecurities sometimes got the better of me, making me jealous of your relationship with my best friend, Jim. For that, I’m sorry.




Dear Jason,

You are the essence of the Narcissus story, my beautiful blond friend. I’ve never met anyone so concerned with his hair. I hope that you made it to California and have become a model. Not only did you teach me great patience, you showed me the truth behind the dumb blonde stereotype.



Do you remember getting caught on the pier on the bayou at the university? Those cops had no idea what was going on, thanks to your acrobatic recovery.




Dear Joel,

You were my first love and my first geek.
Do you remember our first conversation? We were at a forgettable party somewhere and we began chatting about Star Trek: TNG’s Beverly Crusher. Just like that fiery redhead swept Jean-Luc off his feet, you romanced me all the way down the proverbial Jeffrey’s tube.



Thank you for all the cross-country adventures. I can still remember the stink after our first 24-hour trek to D.C.! Can you recall the exhilaration of emerging from the subway station at the Mall, to behold a vast sea of gay people spreading out in all directions? It was a defining moment of my life. And you were there, holding my hand. I remember looking into your eyes (one blue, one brown) and realizing the thrill of being gay and being in the majority for the first time in my life. I get chills thinking about that experience.



I regret my betrayal of you in New York. David and our tour guide were not at fault. I have only my lustful heart to blame. I failed you. I was a selfish, ridiculous, ravenous man-whore. I apologize for that. I know we won’t be able to talk for some time, but I’ll always care about you. I only wish I’d been more caring then. I read about you in Timothy’s online diary last week. Just your name makes me smile.



With sweetness and light,
Jeffrey