Friday, April 8, 2011

An Open Letter To Girl: (A)

A long, long time ago, I promised I'd write you. I never told you, but I did tell my best friend, and he's born silent witness to my failure to do so ever since. So I think it's about time.
     For years now, I've been carrying around a movie version of you- you know, where every one is perfectly cast, and everything is scripted. You've been keeping me company, laughing at my jokes, telling better ones, learning from me, and teaching me. I've wanted to wake up to you, fall asleep with you, come home to you, and wait for you. In my head, you've held my hand, rested your head on my shoulder, and just generally been intelligent, spirited, and beautiful you. Is this fair? Well, possibly it's unfair to me, this golden apple, possibly unfair to other girls, this standard you've set. Maybe you've suffered from it too, but honestly, to be longed for can't hurt that much, can it?
     The thing is, I was at a sidewalk cafe in a little Cuban neighborhood (well, formally Cuban, It's much gentrified now) and heard 'All You Need Is Love' played in the bar across the street. He was a very sweet man to have written that, but I'm not sure if I agree... And so now I'm wondering how you feel about the subject, about fate, and two people coming together like waves or like clouds. I thought I'd found something once, but we came together like continents forming; where we met a jagged line tore the sky and rocks grew up where an ocean had been. Then the snow fell on the highest peaks, and people can't live there any longer. I wonder whom you've met, and what that meeting was like. I imagine it was like a bee and a flower, though I can't say which would have been you, and I like the mystery.
     So I think, maybe, I'm writing to say we should meet up sometime, over coffee or drinks or kites. We should catch up. We've obviously both changed, and maybe we've grown apart. Maybe now we can be, as the Council Of High Cynics And Pragmatists warned me, in their sternly worded pamphlet oh-so-long ago, 'just friends'. Maybe our plan to join hands and take things over won't work. I thought, if we danced enough, we could change a paradigm. I remember saying to you, 'We're gonna be great'. And maybe we still will, just not together.
     I dreamed of you, I longed for you, and god knows, I tried to make others be like you, but now, I just like you. I hope hope hope you're doing well, and that your wonder quotient remains high. Years ago, I believed we were both out there searching for the same thing. Now, I'm not even looking, and quite happy with my choice. Maybe you, too, have decided it's just not out there. But the thing is, even if it isn't out there, we still are. So if we can't get together any time soon, then I will see you when I see you. We'll smile. We'll interrupt each other. You'll out pace me, I'll catch up. All I ask, is that we wait until then to decide if we go our separate ways again.


  1. Ahhh, there you are again my friend. Glad to "see" you. ;)

  2. I doubt it needs saying, but to be clear, I'll offer some background. I do know a least one person was confused by the intent of this post, so here I will spell it out:
    In high school, A very good friend and I coined the term 'Girl A' to describe a different way of looking at one's dream girl. Mostly, men and boys think of their 'dream girl' in terms of looks or personality traits. While some of those are certainly present for both of us, he and I agreed we thought more in terms of adventures to be had. A 'dream girl' spins on an axis of qualities, 'Girl A' orbits me with a to-do list. Girl: (A) does not exist, she's an abstract. This post is about growing up, and out of, the ideals of love we hold in youth. It's about letting go of some hopes, in the interest of accepting the people life sends your way for who they are, not for what you may be looking for them to be.

  3. This is going to sound so shallow after such a deep explanation, but while that guy is still there, literally in my dreams, at 44 I've come to realize reality - cold hard reality, as long as he picks up his clothes and pays his share of the bills, it's love....
    I lost my depth about twenty years ago...

  4. The fire in your eyes, may it never go out.