Dear Boy,
You had a family dinner tonight and could not go out with me.
It would be fine if this weren't the only week we can spend together since October and until June.
It would be fine if you hadn't told me you'd see me every day this week.
It would be fine if I hadn't cleared up my schedule and given up the chance to go see Demetri Martin or Spamalot* tonight so that I could spend time with you.
As always, you informed me of your unavailability with that eternal good humor that is your trademark so I would not feel too bad, and I likewise pretended to not mind much. Even though I know we both did.
I do wonder how much we don't tell each other. It's so much easier to be intimate and truthful with words, when you have time to think them over and really mean them. It's not just us, it's the world in general. It just takes time, I suppose.
But don't worry, I'm not mad. Slightly miffed, yes, but not mad.
Not at you, at the circumstances.
Those things do happen. I know that, were I in your position, I would be powerless too. After all, your family has dibs on you, and mothers are a force of nature to be reckoned with.
As I'm not entirely sure of her feelings toward me, and in any case would not go against her plans for family time, I don't want to cross your mother. Your father might have been easier to persuade, at least until the unfortunate glove box incident happened (although I'm sure he's more amused than anything, really). But, in any case, it's too late now and this evening's shot.
However, tomorrow night is mine even if I have to fight my way to your house, personally affront your mother, hold your cats hostage or kidnap you in the dead of the night.
With love,
The Archuchess
*Not that I don't have the entire script (and Norwegian subtitles) of Monty Python and the Holy Grail memorized or anything, I'd just give a lot to see the Pythons in person. And tickets were only $10, too...
You had a family dinner tonight and could not go out with me.
It would be fine if this weren't the only week we can spend together since October and until June.
It would be fine if you hadn't told me you'd see me every day this week.
It would be fine if I hadn't cleared up my schedule and given up the chance to go see Demetri Martin or Spamalot* tonight so that I could spend time with you.
As always, you informed me of your unavailability with that eternal good humor that is your trademark so I would not feel too bad, and I likewise pretended to not mind much. Even though I know we both did.
I do wonder how much we don't tell each other. It's so much easier to be intimate and truthful with words, when you have time to think them over and really mean them. It's not just us, it's the world in general. It just takes time, I suppose.
But don't worry, I'm not mad. Slightly miffed, yes, but not mad.
Not at you, at the circumstances.
Those things do happen. I know that, were I in your position, I would be powerless too. After all, your family has dibs on you, and mothers are a force of nature to be reckoned with.
As I'm not entirely sure of her feelings toward me, and in any case would not go against her plans for family time, I don't want to cross your mother. Your father might have been easier to persuade, at least until the unfortunate glove box incident happened (although I'm sure he's more amused than anything, really). But, in any case, it's too late now and this evening's shot.
However, tomorrow night is mine even if I have to fight my way to your house, personally affront your mother, hold your cats hostage or kidnap you in the dead of the night.
With love,
The Archuchess
*Not that I don't have the entire script (and Norwegian subtitles) of Monty Python and the Holy Grail memorized or anything, I'd just give a lot to see the Pythons in person. And tickets were only $10, too...
1 comment:
Thank heaven (a saying; not to be taken literally) that you were only slightly miffed. I rather think that I may not have enjoyed seeing you very miffed.
Post a Comment