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Animals are part of the family Mrs Teapot,i remember when i was little we lost a dog, it just ran off for some reason.
I don’t want to marry you. It’s the second time you’ve asked and for the second time, after careful consideration, I don’t think so. It gets harder to say with each hint of a proposal and that explains this letter. Every time you step into my life I allow you a chance to make an impression. A few dates and I already know – in as much as you offer security and stability – that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s gone on now for four years on and off but still I cant bring myself to give you the answer you desire.
I do like you, as you’ve pointed out a number of times. You are a good guy, fit and with good looks, generous (slightly) and a professional, too. You are good company when you’re not raging about some idiot who tried to outsmart you at some place or other. You are commitment-ready, keen to settle down. You tick many boxes but not enough of mine.
If I had to “settle” in order to fulfil the traditional expectation of marriage by age 30, I guess you’d do, but I’m not that sort of person. You are all these good things but you do not fascinate me still. I’m at pains to make you see and torn that I can’t love you like you deserve. You are good company but I don’t itch to spend prolonged lengths of time with you, just the two of us. You are easy on the eye but not in a way that thrills me, your touch does not leave me aching for more or imagining things I would like you to do with me. If I had to settle, you’d be great. On a universal scale, you’re possibly a good catch but, sadly, I need more.
You see, I gave my heart away. It’s all over now but it appears I forgot to take it back. I fell in love just like it’s told in fairy tales yet different, just like it happens to everyone else yet exclusive to me. I didn’t always know the hold he had over me but time has showed me clearly. I would like to love you but it seems I’ve been robbed.
I had never met anyone like him before. He was brilliant, witty (mostly irreverent) and dared to say things that made me gasp in horrified fascination. He was gorgeous to look at and after our first kiss I christened him Delicious. I was enjoying each day, each perfect moment and didn’t bother with all that committed relationship rhetoric. I loved him and he left it in no doubt that he loved me. He called me Precious and passionately declared that he loved everything about me. I loved to be loved by him. I didn’t care if he was unshaven, unbathed or groomed to within an inch of his life, I wanted to spend every moment with him. You probably understand these feelings if you truly love me like you say you do.
But it was a mess. He was engaged to be married when we met and torn about how to end it. When he was away, I let you take me out on dates. You represented security, he represented one I may or may not have in the end. I did try to give you a chance. I thought I was being fair. It was never the same. I pined for him while I tried to pay attention to you. I compared how I felt when I was with either of you and he was way ahead. I imagined what I had with him was so great that he would break off his engagement and we’d remain together for ever. I did feel bad for the other girl but it wasn’t my fault that true love had happened.
Or so I thought. For when he got married and left me only an email, I was left bereft. You were there back then but we didn’t share enough of an emotional connection for me to tell you my story. I wish I could say my experience broke me down for you but with no emotional or physical connection between us, that didn’t happen. I don’t even think you’re aware of that, you don’t read me so well. I do wonder if a psychological wall has grown around my emotions preventing me from seeing any good in what you do. Why is it so hard to give you the answer you want? Why is it so hard for me to feel as happy as before? None of this is your fault. Its just a sad twist that you’ve loved me while Ive loved another.
So you see I can’t marry you becausMee I left my heart in “long ago”. When it is restored to me, I’m sure it will be clear for all to see. Sadly, this time, the answer is no again. Fondly, Me
Once again the man always comes out the loser :roll: :lol:
@a certain sadness wrote:
Once again the man always comes out the loser :roll: :lol:
Sounds like they both lose to me…
This is a letter that has taken me 52 years to write. As your eldest son, I have previously felt that some things are better left unsaid and I guess I have tried to tell you in my own way, so please forgive my honesty. It is not my intention to hurt you. While we have never said we love each other, I believe deep down you showed me in your own way as I did in mine. Am I a good son? Have you been good parents?
Mum, parts of me think you must know how I feel about my childhood and the relationship we have now, which is as good as it ever will be. Another part suggests that you have no idea of the torment I went through as I was growing up and the deep-rooted insecurity that I had as a child and have grappled with ever since. Dad, you are not without fault and have your own demons to wrestle with – everyone who knows you will vouch for that. The main thrust of this letter is to let you both know how self-centred you were when I was growing up. I guess my brothers and sister will have their own story to tell – this is mine.
Mum, why did you always put men before us as children? Splitting the four of us apart so you could live with another man, only to come back and continue wreaking emotional havoc. You always underestimated my capacity to understand what you were saying to others in my company, even if you thought you were speaking in code. I know more than you will ever realise. Dad, I guess you were too busy dealing with your own emotions to have any insight into how I was feeling. You never, ever listened to what I was trying to tell you and, sadly, you still don’t.
I vividly remember two occasions. Mum, the first was when you were talking about leaving us and taking my sister and youngest brother. As I was going up the stairs, crying, I heard you say to your friend: “Don’t worry about him, time is a great healer.” The second time, some seven years later, was when I returned from a holiday with some friends to be met at the door by Dad telling me: “Your mother has left for good this time.” Mum, not telling me to my face hurt me badly. It was always about you as parents, not us as children. Believe me, time does not heal – you should both have learned that lesson by now. I have.
That’s the point of this letter. As parents you have never seemed interested in anything I have achieved, but I guess that is my problem. A friend told me at the time: as adults you have to live your life as you wish. This made me think and yes, I started to grow up from that point.
You were not bad parents, and my gripe is very much a generational thing, I suppose. No one told each other they loved them back in the “good old days” did they? And children were seen but definitely not heard. The ironic thing is that your daughter-in-law, my lovely wife of nearly 30 years, has shown me love I could only have dreamed of as a child. Love is hard to define but I do know that trust, loyalty and sacrifice are a large part of loving.
I have learned from my childhood and I know my two adult children, whom I love dearly, will find fault with me as a father. But I have strived with the help of my wife to ensure that they had a secure upbringing; they know what trust and loyalty mean. My feelings are my issue; thankfully, my children will have nothing bad said about you as grandparents.
One of the legacies of my childhood is being unable to openly cry, which I struggle with even to this day. It is not a macho issue but something I have to grapple with when I get upset. I would like to thank you for not asking anything of me as you get older. To be fair, you did not give much emotionally when I was a child but you ask very little of me as you grow older. Love is unconditional and come whatever, I do love you both. Thanks for listening – if, that is, you are. Anonymous
thats just so sad
I have to agree it is a very sad letter but it is, as was said in the letter, possibly a generational thing.
The writer says he is 52 years old so he would be a child of parents who went through the Second World War, who would in turn have been children of parents who went through the First World War.
We are the fortunate generation who have not been through major wars like that and are now able to react differently. Fathers going away for years to fight and coming back (or not) emotionally scared, mothers left behind with no news for months or even years dreading the bad news telegram. Showing any emotion during those periods must have been so difficult as it was probably easier to just shut down any expression of love in case it backfired.
My grandparents and parents were never able to show the affection they undoubtedly felt which we are now able to show our children these days.
Time now for some more of my drivel :D
I miss and think of you every day. I think of calling you every day just to let you know how the day went, how things are, and what I wish and hope. But I know that it would soon lead on to when I am moving out, leaving my life as it is to live the life prescribed and determined by the rules of religion.
Being gay and coming out to you in my position wasn’t the easiest thing for me to do. Sometimes, I regret it every day. But you were patient; you were more than I could ever expect from parents in your situation. You didn’t condemn me. But you didn’t accept it either, and you never will.
Sometimes I wish I could have been the son who would make you proud, with a family and home. But the family I chose to make was the last straw for you both. It was a struggle to get you to meet my partner. That was the day I graduated, a day I wish you could be proud of. But I could feel how you both felt your dreams falling apart.
The day you saw our home was the worst day in my life – you yelled and screamed outside. How much more dramatic could it have been with the thunderous summer rain. I felt like laughing because of the stupidity of it all. Then you gave the ultimatum for me to leave my life now or never to come to either of your funerals.
I have had to lie to maintain my relationship with you both. But when I finally chose not to, I paid the price. It has been nearly two years since you found out about me and him. I wish we could escape this cycle of God and doctrine, of duty towards religion and community.
And now my partner has left me for another guy after three years of being together. Like with you, we divided in distance, in spoken words, in time. You always warned me that that would happen, that his people’s way wasn’t our way of life – their idea of commitment differs from ours. I’ve lived in four countries and I guess I never fitted in in any way of life.
I’ve lost a lot and, to be honest, I don’t feel any better for it. I just wish you could realise the idiocy of it all. I love you both, and the guilt I carry will hang over my head. Perhaps one day you will question why you believe that God and society should condemn me for being who I am and the irony of it all; but I don’t have faith that you will. Instead we all have to accept that things will never be the same. And for that I am sorry. Nature takes the path of least resistance normally … I guess we all do.
I love you, Ami and Baba.
Your son x
gosh…… made me cry… so sad :(
Oh that one touched a nerve
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