subject line: pour yourself a drink first. April 23, 2015 by Hannah Brencher jersey city, new jersey I am hesitant to have a Facetime conversation this weekend, as I’m sure you’ve noticed that I haven’t been very communicative in time the since we last spoke, so allow me to explain where I’m currently at. It would be an understatement to say that our last conversation was difficult for me. It leveled me. It honestly felt like a death. And that is, in effect, what it was. The death of an idea that I didn’t even realize I was still clinging on to with both hands. The idea that one day soon, you’d be back East and there would be infinite possibilities of how things between us could pan out. They could have gone in a million different directions, good and bad, but the point is that there were possibilities. I’m a writer, I could live on the sustenance of possibilities forever. So when you said that you’d be moving to Michigan for the next few years, the many scenarios I had subconsciously (and consciously) imagined for the two of us were ripped away from me. I cried for three days straight, so hard that I couldn’t eat. And that kind of violent physical reaction doesn’t happen to me often. After some thought, it seems it only occurs after we’ve said goodbye – after our first “ break-up”, when I heard from you at the start of last fall, after we said goodbye this past spring. And maybe I’ve done a good job at hiding this from you, or maybe not. I don’t know how much of this you already know, but I want you to know it now. Now, that there is really nothing left to lose.And all of this gets at a much larger, but much simpler truth – I love you. I am in love with you – or as much as I can be at such a distance. When we were together, in all the muddled variations that we were, I loved you. And let me clarify, that this abundance of feeling is not a result of us having sex. It’s not because you were my first. You were my first, my choice, because I was already in love with you, though I didn’t realize it at the time. What I did know two years ago, which still holds true today is that you are everything I have ever wanted in another person. Flaws and all. I am not reminiscing, not romanticizing your character. I recognize that neither you, nor I, is perfect, but in the short bursts of time that we spent together, those minutes and hours, the occasional day, they were perfect. And we were perfect within them. It’s a terribly hard thing to let go of, even though I’ve been trying to do just that for a long time now. I do not begrudge you the life that you’ve chosen. I am so very, very happy that you are pursing the career that you want, in the way that you want to do it. I am not angry with you and there is no blame to be assigned here. I would have done everything you have if I had been in your position, except that I would have wanted a relationship too, perhaps that’s the woman in me.I’m sorry if this feels like an assault, but I’m telling you all of this so that you can understand how hard it is for me to consider you as a friend. We haven’t been “just friends” in so long that I don’t know if it’s possible for me to regress back to that point. I don’t want to not know you and not have you in my life, but when we talk, especially via facetime, it kills me because it’s a reminder of what I don’t get to have. And yes, there are other fish in the sea – I’ve met many, dated a few – and I can honestly say that I have doubts that I’ll ever feel for someone else the way I did about you and it makes me incredibly sad. So that’s it. That’s my (written) speech. You know I can’t ever speak eloquently when emotional, so I figured this was the best alternative. I’m in no rush for an answer, not that I’ve really asked any questions, but I’d appreciate it if you would just think about what I said. I don’t know how you feel about any of this, but after reading it, if you want to talk, I can do that. I would be happy to do that.