Boyfriend Christmas Letter

Preface: this will be mailed to the prison where he is incarcerated at until mid-May 2018. Spell check and editing coming soon (hah).

❤  —  ❤  —  ❤

“Year and a Half Later”

By the time you get this letter, it will be about a year and a half since I sent that first letter to you. You know… the letter you still reference to remind me about all the growth and progress I’ve made in the last year.  The same one we giggle about together because both of our worlds are drastically difference now.

Think about all that has happened since then (June 2016)…

When I first wrote you, never in a million years would I have guessed you would fall in love with ME. In fact, if I had known that I would have ran away in the other direction, lol. The thought of one more person hurting me, crushing my heart, and shattering my self-worth even more… terrified me and scared me shitless. At the time I just wanted a friend to write to, nothing more nothing less. I had just filed for divorced, you are married, and I wanted nothing more than to help you. Sure, I recalled you being a very handsome man the first time I met you in 2010 but when I sent the first letter there was absolutely NO motive other than me hoping that a simple letter would distract you from the chaos confined within those walls for five minutes.

I recall the exact moment I saw your mom plead for help on social media; all the endless Stories about your wide and seeing how it pained you; trying to figure out how to pet your Mexican Hairless dog for the first time; the moment I felt nervous that I agreed to your little “buddy”, Gizmo (potentially the most adorable chinchilla – I’m obviously potentially bias – he is so high maintenance, thanks for that you ass).

…the exact moment our eyes first met when I walked into your tattoo shop; your huge smile at the shop when you were around my contagious twitterpation; the second I blew your mind mid-tattoo when a song came on and I said “FOO FIGHTERS ARE MY FAVORITE BAND!”.

…the exact moment I walked through a metal detector at a correctional facility how the felt sense of terror and confusion and the moment you first took my hand at visitation and that felt sense of warm calming happiness radiate through me.

You told me endless stories about you ex-wide, your wife, and all of the trauma from your past that formed you into the incredible man you are today. Most of the stories you shared were because I was still in shock and awe that this beautiful creature in front of me was not actually a rock star tattoo artist in prison for murder – but rather a human being that is no better or worse than any other soul who was sharing stories from his past to fill the silence since we didn’t know one another at all, really. I swear. You could have gone on for hours. I would watch your pain show, the enthusiasm and excitement in your passion for hobbies, and I’d watch each facial expression. Somewhere in one of those visits we were talking about sex and you informed me that more than one orgasm during sex is possible (now you blew MY mind. who knew………). You’ve opened my eyes to SO many things beyond sex.

ALL those days and nights you stayed on the phone, silently, listening to me cry. Never leaving my side.

I can recall each call I missed when you were in the hole. I recall all the hours spent, crying, patiently repeating trying to convince myself that it would be okay. And the details of the first call the second you got out.

I recall the first visit after the hole and me looking at you and refusing to let go of your hands holding mine. The second visit after the hole when you took my hands, elbows bent on the table, and in that moment, tears in your eyes, and I felt this overwhelming sense of love and passion. I whispered “really?” and you nodded slightly. I now know that that was the feeling of a thing called love.

I remember in vivid detail the moment I told you “I love you” and the words that followed.

foxhole. cookies. “Yep, sure didn’t”. insoles (omfg the insoles). benadryl. jokes about if your penis is real. pop corning. phone cookies. basketball bets. pupils. hours spent hoping you will make love to me for hours the first time we are intimate and wondering how it will feel to finally have you inside of me.

You asked if your mom could live with me (two different times). And you and her, the animals, your kids… have all become my “family”. Not literally, but you’ve all taken me in and shown me love when I was falling apart mentally and falling away from my biological family. I’m not sure where I’d be or what floor I’d be picking myself off of without you and your mother. I would have made so many suicide attempts with the hope that one would do the job…. if it wasn’t for you. So many times the knife was ready and your voice made my urge subside for a lapse of time until I heard the metal fall to the floor, blood free.

What led us here? I was never going to bail after committing my friendship. And I certainly would never bail when you said over and over “it takes a special woman” to be with a man in this situation. My devout personality will conquer any challenge I step up to and my stubbornness will not allow me to lose. Life has fed you shit. Life has been full of crap. But something called karma found your healing heart and paired you with my kind heart. I believe in some mutual universe you healed me and I healed you.

After all the pain and suffering and how it would ease up then slam me down again… I’m still here. I’m not ashamed to share all this mushy cookie stuff because I am so thankful to have met you seven years ago and to be reunited a year and a half ago.

My heart is yours for as long as we are happy in a healthy relationship together and as long as you decide to put up with my (less frequent) mood swings and keep me around.

Merry Christmas my Nommy.

With Love – B

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