Over the last while, I’ve been receiving some very nice letters and comments.

Two, in particular, touched me. This one:

I stumbled upon your blog a few days ago. I’m reading all your archives right now.

One of your entries moved me so much I had to pass it to my best, most initimate, most sensitive/sensual girlfriends. It wasn’t a big group, but a group I felt could hear what you were saying in your entry. It was about finding the spot on a woman that should be kissed.

I read your blog every day because I can’t believe there is a man out in the universe who is this intuitive, in tune, so aware of himself emotionally and physically. I wish you had gone to my college – you would have been so loved and admired.

So this entry distresses me, and I don’t even know you. I understand lonliness – I’ve never had intimacy, or rather, I’m very afraid of it. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this because you don’t know me either and you won’t care, but this entry hurts. You must know by now that someone thinks of you everyday. Maybe it is your mom, maybe an ex-lover or girlfriend or male friend or co worker.

I think I’m more in shock that you can write so honestly and openly. I’m jealous of that.

well, I just wanted to let you know that. And that I have a crush on your blog. Can a person crush on a blog?

Please take care,
Zaira

And this from a few months ago:

Hi Jeff,

you don’t know me and we will probably never meet. It’s sort of interesting the way the internet has changed the way we can know someone.

Allow me to introduce myself, since you have already bore your soul in a very real way that has moved me to write to a complete stranger-something i have never done.

I am a 30 yr old interior designer, a born and bred new yorker currently living in brooklyn. It’s been slow at work lately, so to pass the time I have taken to reading blogs mostly design related, but somehow i read a comment that you had made on a random blog, looking back i can’t remember which one unfortunately, and it led me back to your personal blog somehow.

you see I am not like you at all. I feel similar feelings, and even have similar beliefs, but I don’t have the guts to put myself out there in that way. I dont even have a blog, and i can barely talk to my friends about the way im feeling. so for me your blog is very therapeutic and refreshing.

like most people who blog, im sure, you wonder if anyone out there is reading. Well just wanted to let you know that I really like your blog and will continue to read it.

I have added you as a flickr contact and i see that you have reciprocated-*armadilliz* I am not a stalker / crazy person, or anything like that, just a fan, so rest easy.

Take care,

-Liz

And while people tell me how much they appreciate me being open and sharing myself, it’s nothing compared to what they share of themselves in these letters. I don’t know what compels someone to write to a total stranger, but it’s a warming gesture, something that inspires me when I’m feeling closed and self-conscious.

Thank you to the people who’ve written me. Thank you to the people who share their own problems and issues and lives. Thank you to the people who let me know that I’ve inspired them to start their own journals. Thank you for supporting me when we’ve never even spoken.

It’s your words that make me feel like I’m not so alone when I’m sitting in my house, wondering what to do with myself. It’s your kindness that gives me strength when the world is falling down around me. It’s knowing that I’ve been able to make a difference that keeps me going.

Thank you.

Jeff

Where do I start? I can’t even begin to recount the last six weeks of my life, and really if I were able…Im [sic] not sure you’d want to hear it. I won’t say the “let’s be friends” email was a surprize [sic]…I suppose I just needed to hear it.

I find a letter in my mailbox, wrapped in a gold foil envelope, teal letters on a white page.

The letters are blocky, square, with no regard for case. She used to write me notes with her Es as three parallel lines, counting on the eye to draw an illusion of a vertical bar, and her Os dotted in the centre. It was one of her things, one of the details she used to be unique.

Now she’s abandoned all that.

I’m already skeptical, on my guard.

It’s hard though…I had my chance…I suppose you had yours through our relationship…you couldn’t be what I needed then and now look at you — the subject of my fantasies…watching from afar…wishing I’d have saw [sic] these things then — wondering if maybe I had looked through less skeptical eyes, I could have saw [sic] who you are today.

I’m reminded of why it ended. Of how hard I tried to make it work, of all the things she did to hurt me.

Now she points out her faults. The mistakes she made. She flatters me. She lets her guard down. I’ve never felt her so vulnerable, and this is how I know she’s changed.

You lead the structured life I always wanted, I don’t know if you have a counterpart in your life…I don’t know if you’re content now to structure your own world and not yet someone else’s…there are few things I do know about you…but what I do see…Im [sic] sorry I didn’t before.

Truth be told…Ive [sic] driven all the way to the east end on a few occasions and turned back. My intention was to fall at your feet…to kiss them as I had in the past but with a renewed respect for you and a better understanding of myself. But I was affraid [sic].

I’m reminded now of what drove me to achieve what I have now. To cast off that part of my life, to buy a house, to live on my own, to move on. I may never have had any of this if it wasn’t for her.

I’m sure you’re shaking your head now…maybe laughing…maybe not even reading this anymore. You’re done with me it seems. i’m [sic] okay with that…afterall [sic] it’s my own fault. I had that chance and I couldn’t take it.

i’ll [sic] get to the point: on the next page is a short fantasy I had pass through my mind yesterday and so I wrote it down in my journal because lately something has changed in me — I never assign a name or face or…person to my fantisies…lately you’ve been front and centre.

I’m reminded of how intensely sexual she was. The nights we stayed up, alive in flame, consumed by our concupiscence, pushing the limits of our bodies. There were times when I never felt so alive.

Before you read this next page…know that if you had wanted me at your feet—Id [sic] be there in a heartbeat—even still—what an honnor [sic] it would be to curl up at your feet while you read this—

Okay now Im [sic] stalling—because Im nervous at the thought of you opening your eyes to my want…for you.

Her words aren’t enough. Not enough to change my mind or what’s past.

Too little, too late.

I love you too much baby
For you to be with me
I love you too much baby
I gotta set you free

—Shea Seger, I Love You Too Much

You were the closest I’ve ever come to perfect in a girlfriend. In fact, you raised the bar. Now I know there are girls out there who are funny, intelligent, open-minded, caring, sane, and I’ll always be looking for the same now.

In so many ways, we worked. My love of dark chocolate and your love of milk chocolate meant that we’d never have a problem finishing off an assorted box. You’re so easy-going, while I’m so uptight. All the little things, like puzzle pieces made of clay.

Even though it’s been months since we’ve broken up, our video is still by far the most played item on my iTunes playlist. It’s such a beatiful memory, and I’ll always cherish it.

I still miss those notes you used to leave me about what you did during the day and when you’d be back. Those times we’d take the bus, and you’d rest your head on my shoulder. Those times we’d wrestle and fall asleep in a pile, right there, from exhaustion.

I miss all these things, but the fact is that it didn’t feel right, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of us to keep going. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone who will fully appreciate you and the things you do.

I know I never said it in our relationship, but I loved you.

And I still do.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

I’m not going to deny it anymore. It’s always been you. But I understand, you don’t need to explain, I get it. Work, our lives, we’re busy. You’re about to go off on a grand adventure. And I can see why you think that a relationship with me and that adventure are mutually exclusive but I just want to say my piece. Getting lost with each other could be the greatest adventure we’ve yet to embark on and I just want to say that if you want to get lost with me I’ll always be here perpetually lost without you.

I read his letters, some dated, some titled with expressions of forlorn hope. Familiar words that cut me to the bone.

They’re beautiful. I never knew he was capable of such poignancy, such emotion. It fills me with envy.

Sometimes I just want to be noticed. Not often, but sometimes late at night when I’m thinking about the “what-ifs” of the day. Being too obvious would be dangerous though and so I slink away, back to my cave to think, rather than do. Such a coward, I loathe myself. You’d say no, every rational scenario I’ve played out ends with that.

He’s trapped, perpetually lost in the thought of another. This time, I’m on the outside, looking in. It’s all new for him, and I can hear in his voice how much he detests it.

His angst is unbecoming. He’s not a writer, but he writes these letters, hoping the catharsis will save him. I’ve been here enough times to know that it’ll be alright, but that there’s also nothing I can do to help, so I resign myself to helplessness.

And now I’ll be pre-occupied and jealous for the rest of the weekend. Me, jealous and not trusting myself to speak, me. Not me, anymore. This love is like leprosy, pieces of myself are falling away. It’s ablative.

Yet his tone is so unfamiliar, so unlike him. Me, he writes, Not me, anymore. He doesn’t even believe it himself. The sanguine friend, reduced to an enfeebled state he wants desperately to cast aside. Even with the wisdom I’ve gained, it still surprises me how attraction, infatuation, love can make one so irrational.

In these letters he shares his feelings, wholly, as if to say, “Here is my heart. Please hold it gently”. The words would strip him bare if he spoke them to her, so he writes them where no one but me will read.

A prisoner, he lives in this cage, caught between the will and the risk of expressing to her how he feels.

The thrill is gone
The thrill is gone away
The thrill is gone baby
The thrill is gone away
You know you done me wrong baby
And you’ll be sorry someday

—BB King, The Thrill Is Gone

Our relationship was a nightmare of ups and downs.

You had the amazing ability to make me feel good about myself, by saying the right thing with intelligence and eloquence.

Yet every time I felt like I was making progress, progress that took tremendous effort and energy, progress for you, you would put me down. Every time I took a leap of faith and put myself out there, you would hurt me. It wasn’t even a case of brutal, tactless honesty; you would insult my pride for no reason.

I think it betrayed a subconscious insecurity. Something you would do to make yourself feel better. Like your constant need to prove that you’re busy and moving on. It’s as if your life is empty, void, and you’re desperate to fill it with something.

I had to end things when you went too far.

There were no regrets, because I did my absolute best to make things work. Even though I suffered, I ignored the pain, and tried working through it. I only gave up when you proved too stubborn to change or understand.

The relationship wasn’t a total loss. It was an interesting introduction to the subculture. It was passionately sexual. It also made me more confident, although I realize now that it wasn’t because of you. You barely gave me any trust, and every step forward I made, you pulled me back two. It was me who fought through all the insecurities and rose to the occasion.

When you came back in January, without a word of apology or mention of the wrong you did, I had no interest in continuing the relationship. After that, I thought of you whenever I heard the song Buried Myself Alive by The Used.

Unfortunately, it was at an unstable time in my life, so I asked you to back off and wait. Your idea of backing off and waiting is leaving me creepy comments and dating to fill the time. I just can’t understand how you keep making these mistakes. It’s almost like you purposely sabotage yourself.

I don’t want to be involved in the drama anymore. Nothing is ever simple with you. Even though you say you’ve changed, it’s not worth the risk to me. You had your chance, and it was a damn good one.

You’ve wronged me too many times. The last time you left my house, not knowing when or if you’d come back, I felt nothing.

I knew then that the thrill was gone.

A few other things:

• On the phone, your voice could be so cute that it would make me weak and forget everything you did.
• Out of all my girlfriends, you were physically the least attractive, yet you were the most conceited about your looks.
• It was very much appreciated when you brought me flowers at work, and the times you’ve dropped off food and other goodies at my door. No one else has done this for me.
• The way you would remember events was often completely wrong. It wouldn’t be so bad if you weren’t completely convinced that your interpretation was correct. It made things rather scary, like dating a schizophrenic. You could totally fabricate how things went, the way you wanted to remember them. The root of an argument would turn into my fault, instead of yours.
• You were a knockout in bed.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

Am I not your favourite gadget, no more?
How come my little baby?
Am I not your favourite gadget, no more now?
How come not anymore?

Since you bought me, I feel lonely
Since that day things are wrong
Could you not repair me, honey
Is my warranty guaranteed gone

—Ellen ten Damme, Gadget

There was always something about you.

Your voice. Your Joisey accent. Your hair style. Your always-on choker. Your piercings (I was always a sucker for brow rings and tongue studs). Your taste in music. Your off-the-wall personality.

It was all so exciting. Something I’d never experienced before.

But you were a total drama queen too. You would get upset over the most random, innocuous things. I could never tell if you truly believed the ridiculous things you said, or whether you just said them for attention. Either way, I hated it.

You could also be as immature as a teenager. I hated how you would do things like leave in the middle of a game and storm off to the other room because you thought you would lose.

I put all my feelings aside for you. I would always let you have your way, but you’d never even consider mine, and I hated it.

Even though I knew it wouldn’t last, even though I knew you were completely wrong for me, like poison in the bloodstream, I couldn’t end it. Sometimes I still wonder if you ever think of me, or whether I was just another thing you used to occupy yourself in the summer, between boyfriends.

I’ve written more entries inspired by what happened than by anything else. I don’t want to give our relationship any significance, but the truth is that I can’t deny how important it was. What we had wouldn’t even count as a relationship, if it weren’t for how much it affected me.

My previous relationships were never satisfying. It felt like I could never fall in love or appreciate my girlfriends for who they were, and I always believed it was my fault. Then I fell in love with you, and it helped me learn that the failures of the past weren’t anyone’s fault, and simply the result of incompatibility. If it wasn’t for this realization, the suffering and the heartbreak wouldn’t have been worth it.

You were the only girl to ever break up with me. It was the shortest relationship I’ve had by far, but for some reason, it was the longest for me to get over. My heart tells me you were special, but my head tells me you weren’t special at all.

You were only the one I couldn’t have.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

I can see the pain living in your eyes
And I know how hard you try
You deserve to have much more
I can feel your heart and I sympathize
And I’ll never criticize
All you’ve ever meant to my life

I don’t want to let you down
I don’t want to lead you on
I don’t want to hold you back
From where you might belong

You would never ask me why
My heart is so disguised
I just can’t live a lie anymore
I would rather hurt myself
Than to ever make you cry
There’s nothing left to say but goodbye

—Air Supply, Goodbye

Over four years ago, I started this blog because of you. I felt like you never understood me, so I needed a place where I could express myself without any inhibitions.

I had a lot of hope in you, being drawn to your youth and innocence. A lot of hope in us. I always thought you were like clay I could mold. Someone who would eventually complete me, but you never changed or showed improvement.

It took me a long time to realize how wrong it was for me to do that. How wrong it was for me to want you to be a different person.

I hope I didn’t hurt you. I heard from your brother that you’re already on your Masters degree. I hope he’s healthy and happy. I hope your parents are doing well, that your dad is retired and they’re travelling out east like they’ve always wanted when you started university.

There are a lot of fond memories of our time together. I wonder if you believed me when I said that I wanted to marry you. It was something I honestly felt at the time, until things started falling apart, and I went through one of my phases again. It wasn’t your fault.

I had to end it before I led you on any further.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

Why should I stay and pretend?
You make me laugh again
My darling, truth is we are not even friends
Love comes and it goes
Where your heart stops no one knows
How did I wind up in this mess, here with you?

Just a moment of weakness
I should examine my head
Just a moment of weakness
I never meant a word I said

—Bif Naked, Moment Of Weakness

The first thing about you that caught my eye was your platform shoes. More specifically, the lanky way you walked in them with your plaid skirt on. You had such a funny gait that I would study when I was walking behind you in the halls. Sometimes you looked like an injured fawn, vulnerable and awkwardly running away with your long, slender legs. It was the very definition of sexuality to a depressed, hormonal teenage male.

Those shoes gave you an extra couple inches, and I resented every time you subtly knelt so you wouldn’t be taller than me in any pictures.

I only have a single good memory of our relationship. You were sitting on my lap in the jacuzzi at Cammy’s place. It was February, and there was snow all around us, but we were warm and wet. Every few minutes, we would dunk our heads under the water, then style each other’s hair, the winter air freezing it within seconds.

The more I got to know you, the more I learned that it was all a big mistake. I stuck it out because I didn’t want to break up with you in the months leading up to your exams. It was especially hard when Lisa started showing interest in me, but I couldn’t do it.

You were a sexual bore. No sound, no reaction, nothing in bed. Your friends were all snobs. Your thoughts were trite, and your interests were shallow.

You never knew it, but I had to decide between dating you and Marina. It tore me up for a week, knowing that one of you was going to be hurt. I chose you in a moment of weakness.

It was the biggest mistake of my high school career.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

The lovin is a mess, what happened to all of the feeling?
I thought it was for real; babies, rings and fools kneeling
And words of pledging trust and lifetimes stretching forever
So what went wrong? It was a lie, it crumbled apart
Ghost figures of past, present, future haunting the heart

—Belle & Sebastian, Another Sunny Day

Our relationship has always represented the innocence of my youth.

The Friday nights, playing with candle wax in the dark, learning how our bodies worked. Or the rush of worry and excitement about parents walking in the door. Olfactory sense has come to mean a great deal in my relationships. From those nights we made love with Beth’s voice coming through your tinny speakers, I get turned on when I listen to Portishead.

I kept the bottle of Gap Earth you used, something dear to me since it was discontinued. Every time I smell the nozzle, it brings me back to the time we were together.

Out of all my other girlfriends, I thought you would be the one to end up in a D/s relationship. I never realized it until my own introduction to the lifestyle, but the things you did were the most naturally submissive. The way you wanted to be tied up with our belts, the enjoyment you got from pain, your desire for me to be in control, the way you would take my hands is yours so you could kiss my knuckles. To this day, I wonder if you still like these things.

I’ve always tried to figure out why I’m never satisfied in my relationships. It’s usually not the fault of the people I date. Sometimes I blame my parents for their failed marriage, and how this has made me feel that’s it’s necessary to find the perfect person so I don’t end up like them. Sometimes I think it’s because you were the first, and you came to define what was “right” or not.

I wish I could explain. I thought things would last, because you never hurt me in any way. In fact, you did nothing wrong. Maybe we were just too young. They say you shouldn’t marry the person you can live with, you should marry the person you can’t live without.

And I knew that I could live without you.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

An ex e-mailed me out of the blue the other day. She blamed it on the fall weather, causing her to reminisce and Google my name. We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other in over five years.

After feeling each other out for the first part of the exchange, we caught up on each others lives. She’s been married for three years. Moved out to Kingston after living through the pollution and over-stimulation of downtown Toronto. She has a full-time job while working toward her Master of Education part-time. Her husband’s an artist at heart, she says, trying to make a living off creative writing. No kids yet, but instead, two cats, Emily Wednesday and Shadow.

Me? I moved to Ottawa for university, bought a house, recently got out of a relationship, been working as the marketing and IT manager at a dental laboratory. Oh, and I have one cat, but I’m thinking of a second.

There were some things I’d been meaning to ask her for a while. Going through a series of relationships since ours has changed my perspective, and I’ve always wondered whether she’s grown in this way as well. I put a few questions to her, but she told me, in an amiable way, that she wasn’t completely comfortable indulging my curiosities.

There are a lot of things I’d like to say to my ex-girlfriends, but the nature of a break-up can be that of rancor. Communication breaks down. People lose perspective. I’ve always had a tremendous need to express myself, perhaps to the detriment of my relationships, but digging up what’s past and buried for the sake closure seems a bit selfish. After having this ex tell me that she was uncomfortable, I realized that it may have been rather inappropriate of me.

It’s only here that I can say what I want.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

1. Introduction
2. Ashley
3. Michele
4. Christie
5. Jackie
6. Louise
7. Bronwen

You didn’t know it, but for years I’ve come close to burning the bridge with you. It was a heavy step to take, because in doing so, I knew that I would never be able to go back on such a drastic decision.

I appreciate all the financial support you’ve provided. It’s been more than I can ask for. Unfortunately, what I wanted and needed the most was emotional support.

I’ve always played the role of the submissive son. Your boy who’s always done what you wanted and agreed with what you said. When we exchanged tears on the phone in August, I let you know how poorly I was treated growing up. I’ve always put up with it, but the way you acted last week was the straw that broke the camels back. I keep giving you a chance, over and over. Seeing you over those few days was the last one. Even if you say now that you can change, the risk isn’t worth it. The potential misery, frustration, and anguish you may cause me aren’t worth it.

Normally, I would be sensitive about the timing — the fresh divorce, the transition — but I don’t care anymore. I’ve put my feelings aside my whole life. You pushed me too far, and now I have to consider myself.

Don’t contact me again. Not even if someone dies. Any calls, messages, e-mails will be ignored. This is not an easy or a brash decision for me, a decision I’ve made after cooling off and calming down, but from my point of view it’s for the best.

From now on, I don’t have a mother.

And you don’t have a son.

Dear Josie from Hot 89.9,

It is seven in the morning. Your abhorrent voice and grating personality serve as a reminder of how tired I am. I would very much like to punch you in the face.

—jeff