This weekend I read through many of the letters I wrote to Squeeze over the 4 years we were dating (ages 19-22). I wasn't as much of a dope as I thought I was; for the most part, they are articulate and well written, with interesting content (aside from the "I miss you", "I wish I were with you", "I'd rather be with you right now" bits - which were numerous).
It was like a walk down memory lane. Some things, I knew exactly what I was talking about. Other sections were like a jog to my memory: I had totally forgotten about them, but could recall the events or situation while reading about it. Still, others were completely forgotten: I read it, then wondered what on earth I was talking about, or like a story, forgot the ending. It was fun!
I especially enjoyed one of the first notes I wrote him, asking him "not to go for me" because "it would ruin the potential for a very bright friendship" and thanking him for an enjoyable evening of wrestling. Yes: we wrestled wildly the first night we hung out (I remember picking him up with my legs in an airplane hold and throwing him into his closet door). We were 19.
The other one I enjoyed (perhaps the most), was a very dramatic letter written on December 31st, 1999: I was at my parents' house for Winter Break; we had been "broken up" for all of December and most of November of that year. I say "broken up" because Squeeze doesn't even remember this as truth (in his mind it never happened, because he never truly wanted it to be over). We still saw each other, though not as regularly, and this letter was me saying, "Enough." It hurt too much to see him; I was accepting our fate and sealing the deal: I didn't want to see him anymore. We were married 8 months later.
Ain't love grand??
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