Dear Lover

Dear Lover,

I have to admit, I'm a bit disappointed today. Up until last night, I thought I had actually found you. I had met a guy a while back, and based on circumstances and conversations, I began to believe that he was you. Well, it turns out that I had royally misinterpreted things, and my hopes that my wait and search were almost over came crashing down. So now I find myself a little sadder today (don't worry though, as I'm sure I'll recover soon enough) as I return to a more uncertain wait.

But I'm writing you today to do more than cry on your shoulder. This unfortunate experience has also given me more insight as to the kind of person I hope you'll be. You see, the reason I thought Sean was you was because he made a few statements that were a bit open-ended. He meant that as off-handed comments. And at first, I took them as such. But as time went on -- and after he made a particular comment that was a bit hard not to misinterpret at least a little -- I started getting the distinct impression that he was trying to express a romantic interest in a somewhat subtle way, the kind often attempted by those of us who are somewhat shy. So based on these incorrect interpretations, I came to an equally uncorrect decision.

When we finally and truly meet, I hope that you are daring enough to express your possible interest more directly. I don't want to have to rely on subtle hints and undertones in comments that could be misinterpreted. After all, it would save a great deal of trouble. I also hope you'll be the kind of person who's more direct in communicating in the relationship -- both as it starts and as it moves into a mature commitment. After all, it's so much easier than having to try and second guess intended meanings and connotations.

Don't get me wrong, Lover. I'm not expecting you to take all of the risks in the realm of communications. After all, it wouldn't be fair to me to ask you to always stick your ass on the line and face potential disappointment. I'm willing to be just as direct. When we meet, I'm more than willing to be the first to express interest, as scary as that thought may be to me. All I ask is that before I put my ass on that line, I at least would like to know there's something of a chance. (For example, I don't want to spend a great deal of time working up the courage to ask you out, only to find out you're engaged at the critical moment.)

In the end, Lover, I guess it's about vulnerability as much as it's about visibility. The two are interrelated, after all. So I guess in the end, I hope you're the kind of person who realizes that too, and are willing to chance the vulnerability necessary to help make my job of finding you a little easier. After all, you're so wonderful, I want to find you so that I can spend and share my life with you.

Longingly yours,
Jarred.

Dear Lover,

The past couple of weeks have reminded me that sometimes, love involves pain. All the fairy tales in the world have done us a terrible disservice by lying to us about this stark truth. So many of us -- myself included at times -- go through life hoping that when we find true love, we will enter into the realm of happily ever after and never feel the pangs of heartache or sorrow again. So when we discover this lie for what it is, we often assume we've done something wrong.

I know better than this, Lover. True love will always involve heartache and pain. This is because we live as imperfect humans in an imperfect world, doing our best to share our lives and our hearts with one another. Mistakes are always made, and our openness and vulnerability allow those mistakes to wound us. To deny that fact is to deny our very nature and the very nature of love. This is especially true for someone who loves so freely and openly, someone like me.

But here's the thing, Lover. I wouldn't have it any other way. Long ago, I discovered that if there truly is love in my heart, then any pain that comes as a result is precious. After all, that pain is a sign that I truly am loving freely, and that is the greatest gift that I could ever give myself. It's also the greatest gift I could ever give you, and I will cherish that gift, even with its thorny downside, with every fiber of my being.

I want you to really think about that, Lover. I want you to allow it to sink into the depths of your soul, and find the freedom that this offers you there. I know you're not perfect. I know that you will do things that will hurt me from time to time, no matter how thoughtful and caring you are. And while I don't want you to use this fact to be intentionally thoughtless and uncaring, I don't want you to be afraid of making those mistakes along the way. Because in the end, I will cherish even the mistakes we both make along the way. I will look at my tears I shed as we walk together, and count them as gold.

Tearfully yours,
-- Jarred.