A series of (sort of) love letters I found stuffed in the couch at Psychobabble, the local coffee shop.

Los Feliz, Los Angeles May 2009

Brittany,

I’ve been working on that story for you, “A Delightful Sort of Chaos”, for months now; it was supposed to be your Christmas present, but now it’s May. It’s not that I don’t want to write a story for you, but just that I’m not very good at doing what I’m “supposed” to do. It’s why you get clear plastic jewelry in Chinese food cartons on a random Tuesday, and Christmas presents in May. I don’t exactly know why this is, but I have a real aversion to the way things are supposed to be. I think, somewhere in my heart, I’m afraid things won’t be true unless they’re spontaneous and different, but somewhere else I know that it’s a failing theory because it’s still dependent on “supposed to” and “spontaneous” and “different”. And I’m calling into question lots of the things I think, and why I think them, and you’re such a very large part of that. You make me really think, and question, and learn. That’s one of my favorite things about you, and I have lots of favorite things about you.

Anyway, anyway, anyway, you said that you wanted some of my writing, and as I’m writing this to you, I think we might be broken up, but I’m still writing it to you, because, broken up or not, I still love you, and I don’t think we have much control over this "us", whether we choose to be broken up, or together, or exclusive, or whatever other title or status we give ourselves. So I guess I’ll just recount what’s been going on because that’s probably the most interesting part, more interesting than something I’d make up anyhow.

We were dating. We’d met while tightrope walking. And we were together for a while. And you were still married. I didn’t know if I’d even stay in LA, and I went off and traveled for a bit. But I came back. And we spent a lot of time together, almost all of our time. But I didn’t want to be in a relationship, and Paige called me your boyfriend-not-boyfriend, and you didn’t quite like the dynamic. So then I said you could call me your boyfriend, but then I realized that meant different things to each of us, and I valued my freedom above all else, and I told you I didn’t like that, and that I needed to be able to do whatever I wanted, and you said I could do whatever I wanted, but I knew you didn’t really mean that, and so I swore to you I would hook up with another girl in the next week. But I never did.

So we were just friends for a few days, maybe a week or two, but that didn’t last. I kept falling on you, and kissing you, and taking all of your clothes off. But you started dating other guys, and I didn’t like it, but it seemed like it was only fair, and most of the time it seemed like you didn’t really like them anyway, and I wanted you to have your freedom, and I wanted you to like me best, and it felt like the only way for it to be true, was for it to be spontaneous and different. And that seemed to work for a bit, especially when you’d come see me after a date with somebody else who was lame and then you’d like me better. But then, that changed again. But really, I think, you changed.

You were fair and honest about it, you told me you weren’t ok with just seeing me, and you wanted more than that. But the thing was, you were the one who was seeing other guys. And I could never get over that. I was the one who made a big deal out of not being labeled, but I didn’t see anyone else, and you were the one who made a big deal out of wanting to be labeled but you were the one seeing other people. And we were on both sides of a line arguing opposite sides that still don’t totally make sense to me. Neither one of them. I walked up and down Vermont Ave talking to you on my cell phone and I wanted you to come over so we could talk face to face, but you wouldn’t do it. And I almost would’ve just said fine, we can be boyfriend and girlfriend but I was being stubborn and I didn’t want to say it only because I might lose you, and I just wanted you to choose me and for us to be what we were because that was what was the most important to me, not the title, and I wanted you to feel that way too, but how could I ask you to feel that way about something when you couldn’t know if it was real because I couldn’t even put a silly easy label on it?

You were different to me on the phone the next time I spoke to you, I could hear it in your voice. I can always tell that with you. Even if I don’t notice you have highlights in your hair, I can still hear something different in your voice. And I don’t know what it is, but I know something has changed and that you have something to tell me. And I ask you about it but you won’t say. And then you text me that you miss me, but I don’t believe you, even though I do, but something still seems off, and all I can manage back is that I wish you were with me, because I did. But I don’t hear back.

Then you accuse me of being bitter the next day when I ask you how your apple pie was, even though I really wanted to know, and yes I am bitter sometimes, but not about the apple pie. Even if I‘m bitter, I still want to know if you liked your apple pie or not. And of course I’m bitter anyhow because you want me to be bitter. Either you know and you do it on purpose, or you’re purposely hiding details about what you are doing; which is even worse, because you can’t have it both ways either. And if you’re hiding details about what you’re doing, while you’re doing it, than how can that not be a million times worse than me not wanting to have a label and wanting to be free? And that’s all I can think about, instead of just that I want to have you in my arms, which is all that I’m thinking anyway somewhere in there, but somewhere else it’s mad at you for dating while mad at me for saying dating should be ok which is why you’re dating which is why I’m mad.

It gets to me on a gut level. It just roots around in there and worries me and hurts. And you come over to visit me and I know you have something to tell me and I ask you about it point blank but you won’t tell me and you change the subject and I finally stop you and get a hug out of you which makes me feel better even though I’m sad because you say we can’t be together anymore and I know why but you won’t even fess up or say what you have to say, so after walking around for a while, we go to House of Pies, and you get the pot roast and I get a turkey BLT, which I just remembered is still in the fridge, so I’m going to go downstairs now to get it because I’m hungry.

The fries were soggy, but the sandwich was good. And now I think of you in the diner. We were sitting there in a booth, you've got your leg under you, and you’re making that funny, squinty, I’m mad at you-but I love you face, and things are going pretty good so I’m rethinking the whole sucking it up and just being boyfriend and girlfriend cause what’s the fucking big deal in the first place other than me just being a weirdo anyhow? And I buy you a pecan cookie which you begrudgingly finally share a very tiny piece with me. Even after I give you the sweatshirt that I brought out for you but you said you didn’t want and I tied it around my waist on the way out of the house even though I had a coat because I knew you’d want it (the sweatshirt) later.

When we get back to the house, I put on some Bob Marley because I had started listening to it earlier in the day and I really like that one acoustic Medley, and I give you the plastic light up ring I found, and I put it on your finger and tell you I want you to be my girlfriend but you try to run away and hide, but I hug you, and then I sing along to the song because I like it, but it’s right at the point where it’s all about “come back here to me…” and it’s really corny and I‘m not singing well because I’m thinking, fuck, now it sounds like I planned this, but I’m afraid to stop singing because then it’d be worse, but it probably couldn’t have been any worse and you put the ring on the dresser and lie down and practically start fake snoring.

And I can’t sleep at all and I feel like I did everything at the wrong time, but I also kinda feel like I had to do just what I did, and I don’t let myself feel bad about it, and I can’t change a thing. And so I spent the next day feeling generally unsettled and not knowing what’s what, but it’s going to be what it’s going to be, and if you’ve decided you like this other boy better, then that’s just how it’ll have to be.

And so on it goes into the next day, looking at my phone wistfully just to confirm that, no, you still haven’t called me and this “thing” is just out there, sitting in that metaphysical space between us, and maybe I’m being stubborn, but I can’t call you, it HAS to be you that makes your decision here because I’m more and more positive as time passes that it’s this other guy that’s the issue and who the hell am I to fuck that up for you if he’s so special?

So I guess I'll just have to sit here and wait, because I can't say or do anything if you won't be open with me. All I've ever wanted from you is the truth, and I've done my best, right or wrong, easy or hard, to always be truthful with you.

Love,
Fred

Dear Fred,

I remember that day, the day we walked for what seemed like hours. We were silent in the night walking up hill passing houses we once talked about living in one day. I felt angry and sad and hurt and lost and chaotic. You were patient with my silence.

Earlier, you had told me in a sense that we were getting too serious and you needed your freedom. You wanted to see other women if you wanted to, and why not? You are young and in LA. I wanted to give you what you needed, but the heat inside my heart rose and filled my body with anger and created armor that would later lead to this moment, this moment, here right now, where I write to you with tears. And even though you have come back and wanted me, I cannot break the armor that so protectively guards my heart from the furious fire that once made me feel like the floor was dropping from underneath me. My innocent love for you tainted.

You wanted to date other women, so in response I started to date other men. Each one took me further away from you, and I was happy because it made my armor stronger. We still saw each other as friends, and it was awkward, because I still loved you, but I was angry, and then you were cute and fun and you took care of me when I was sick even though I was mean and bitchy. Toast and jam and tea!

We became intimate again. I thought if I continued to see other men then I would prevent us from having that talk, that dreaded "I need my freedom" talk. Even still, my armor started to wear down and my heart began to trust you again, so I wanted to give us another chance and I called you. I was staring at the clouds when I asked you to be clear with me, "We either move forward into a relationship or we break it off." I was done being in limbo. You cleverly worked around my words and never answered straightforwardly, so my heart quit, and I was done. I was done.

I saw you again, one more time. I saw you and talked to you and ate with you. We talked of silly things and serious things. I told you I was done and you heard it in my tone. We still laughed together. You even bought me a Pecan cookie, and even though I didn't want to share, I gave you a taste. Then, you surprised me with a ring, a ring that lit up, bright red. I loved it! I laughed and teased, "You want to propose to me". You said no, but asked me to be your girlfriend, and I sank but the armor was already up and I could not go back. The armor was up, and heavy and I ran under the covers to hide away.

I spoke to you on the phone days later. The last thing you said to me was, "I'll see you around." It felt like a permanent goodbye. It was sad. I know I must move on, so that I may truly heal. My experience with you has been full of life and learning and wonder. The richness I shared with you, I will always cherish, and I will always love you.

Love,

Brittany

Hey Brittany,

Thanks for your letter, it was good to know there was a response hidden in that silly, stupid couch. That old couch that gets in our way all the time. :)

But it's been good I think, good for me to look, and feel, and see everything in a different light; a light that doesn't always show what I'd like to see. In all truth, I haven't been feeling my best lately, and even the fire hydrants seem a bit sad, but on the upside, it reminds me that people are important, and that even hard times are good. I've spent a lot of time lately, not feeling so hot, (but mostly okay, I don't want you to worry) and thinking over things. Mostly I'm going about my daily adventures, but I wanted to tell you about a time I spent hanging around, and what happened. I was just spending some time, laying on a couch, looking out a window at a friend's house, at a pretty tree, and I thought of you. To be more precise, I was thinking of how the loss of you made me feel, and how it was a direct feeling in my core. And funny enough, I even wanted to share that feeling with you- how I felt about losing you. Isn't that kind of weird? But beautiful. Beautiful, I think, because not only could I find a positive in it, but that, I even wanted to share that pain, and joy, I felt, with you. And I can only imagine, that wanting to share, even that, with you, is because you're a really special person who is so important to me. Someone I've grown with, and hurt with, and loved with.

What I was thinking of, when I looked at that tree, was that, the hurt that I now feel, is kind of a gift, a gift that I'm glad I have. I'm thankful that I'm the one hurting now, because I know that I hurt you before, and it would be really terrible, to me, to hurt you again. And I was thankful, while feeling that hurt, that if we had to break up, that I could be the one hurting. I just mean that, I understand that, hurt comes with love, and that it made so much sense to me, that, if somebody had to hurt, I just wanted it to be me this time, instead of you again, and once I really felt that, it wasn't really hurt anymore, it was just a missing of the wonderful times that we had. I wish you happiness in everything you do, and I know you won't need my wishes, because you make that happiness happen yourself. I'm so glad I've known you and hope we'll always be friends.

Fred