A Resentment Letter To My Future Lover

OK, really? This is really happening? I’m 34 and still single? With this face?

This is all your fault.

One of these days I’m gonna meet you, and that’s why I’m writing this resentment letter. To get it out of my system, so that I can put on my “I’m so peaceful and grateful” face. Oh, but don’t you worry boy, it will hit you someday, you just wait.

You know, it’s hard to wait for you. I come home from work and it’s so quiet and empty. When I feel sleepy I delay going to bed because I’m tired of hugging my pillow. And I am sure it is getting tired of my hairy legs on it’s feathery face. But the hardest thing is getting out of bed in the morning, looking at that poor pillow crumbled next to me, just staring at me silently. It’s silence kills me sometimes. I need motivation, somebody to cheer me up, and tell me that everything will be fine, to feel that I can depend on someone. I miss sharing my everyday life. And don’t you think I don’t know how difficult it is to find happiness in small things. I had two relationships so far, and that is respectable for a gay man. One of them lasted for seven years. I’m only saying that to tell you I’m not some pathetic and desperate guy who doesn’t have a clue how stuff works. I had my share of dating, casual sex, and relationships. And all that time I was thinking about You, knowing that You would came and that I deserve better. You.

So, where the fuck are you? I don’t know if this hide-and-seek game amuses you, but I have to tell you that I’m running out of patience. And I am sure that these days I’ll have to go back to Grindr to check if you are there, than get involved in some stupid conversations that will annoy me to the level of needing a cigarette. And I quit because of you. I know you don’t smoke, and that you are perfect on so many levels, and it gets on my nerves, even though I still haven’t met you. So, why are you letting me skank around places like Grindr and Scruff, when you know we are both sick of those games? I’ll go on another miserable date, pretending that the person I am sitting with is you in disguise, and I just have to wait a little longer until you unzip the veil you cocooned yourself into, and reveal your perfection. I’ve sat through some really bad dates, you know. How could you let that happen? What lesson do I need to learn before you finally decide to show your naturally big biceps to me?

And, oh boy, am I thinking about what you are doing all this time while I’m working my ass off in the gym trying to be appealing to you. Are you fucking someone? Do you go on bad dates? Or, and this is my worst nightmare, do you even exist? Because if you don’t you are soooo screwed. I will imagine you, create you and then slap you so hard you’ll wish you’d go back to nonexistence. But it will be too late for that. You will have to put up with me, and all of the things I planned for us while being on those bad dates or hugging my pillow.

You know what I hate the most about you? That I miss you so much, even though I don’t know you. How fucking lame is that? What powers in the world you might posses that even without being in my life you get to make me feel so shitty. That is probably the reason why I fell in love with you in the first place. You obviously have superpowers. I felt your pheromones somewhere and they got stuck in my head or something. And now you control me like you have a universal remote for my life.

And did you pay someone to write all that stupid new age shit about how I just have to wait until you come along? Well, newsflash: I’m impatient and sick of waiting. You better pack your bags and come soon. Or I will hunt you down, find you, and make your life a living hell. I’m just warning you before it’s too late. If you want us to listen to Tori Amos on Sundays and analyze her songs, you better fucking show up. Or I will go to Grindr and start fucking again. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?

You see, now I’m starting to sound crazy. You see what you’re doing to me? You are so going to get a silent treatment when we meet. Maybe I’ll be so angry I wouldn’t even want to shake your hand and say hi.

But, you know, I would really like to… So, if you see me somewhere, and I act all proud, and put on my “I can handle things without you” attitude, please take my hand and smile to me. I will melt in two seconds and all of this resentment will be gone.

Hopefully.