It’s me, R, I just find it too difficult, splitting my life up, living a normal life, husband and children and responsibilities, then a second one, an affair with you.
Oh R, you seem to find it so easy, keeping things separate, maintaining boundaries, making things uncomplicated. And when I’m with you I feel different and new and fresh, almost reborn, a youngster on the cusp of adventure. Leaving all the baggage behind, it’s like a great unburdening. But it makes me disoriented, I don’t know who I am any more.
R, I know I’m being selfish here, There’s not just me to think about, there’s you too. I don’t know if I’ve had as much impact on you as you’ve had on me, but even if it’s only half, you’ll be hurting from my decision too. God, when I think of the sweet naked times we spent together, long heavenly afternoons, I don’t know how life will be without them. But trust me R, we have to.
Well, here I am faced with the long lonely prospect of a loveless marriage, the only consolation such as it is being the thought that this is the right thing. More to the point, this is what my tightlaced religious upbringing prescribes as the right thing. I know what you’d say, doesn’t sound much like a celebration of the beauty of being alive, and my heart agrees with you, R, but I’m being torn apart, I don’t know what else to do.
So anyway R, I must stop writing, and stop this habit of pouring my heart out to you, even though you’re the only one that listens. You always listen, R, even in imaginary conversations, it’s one of the reasons I find it so difficult to maintain the boundaries. But enough, no more, I just want to thank you for such sweet treasured memories, R, and say goodbye.
