I received a third letter. My boss let me know another one arrived today, so I went to the bar and picked it up. It showed up so quickly, I thought I’d respond just as quickly. Since this is the only way I have to communicate with my Mystery Man, I’ll ask you to bear with me, dear readers, as this strange little drama plays out.
Rather than type out the entire missive and then respond, I think it makes more sense to respond paragraph by paragraph, as though we were having an actual conversation. I’m not saying this will make it any more compelling but at least you’ll get to “come along” on the ride. So to speak. The phrases or words he has put in quotes usually refer to my words from previous posts.
“…is this day and age…” when a boy is interested in a girl (intended usage) a smart boy will revert — or make the attempt — in a manner that is not as prosaic as what has sadly become accepted norm. This is hardly “too much time on his hands rather, it’s showing the girl she’s worth it. In other word (sic), “wooing.”
So I guess you’re saying that sending me an email would’ve been “the norm” and, thus, too prosaic. Point taken. I’m flattered that you’re taking the time to “woo” me.
“you have a secret admirer…” is so banal, as is an anonymous valentine. That could be from ANYONE, and it’s been done to death (as has “secret admirer.”)
True enough. Though I’d have to say that these notes could just as easily be from “ANYONE.” Thus far, you’ve done nothing to set yourself apart from the thousands of other strangers out there in the city. I will withhold my judgement for the time being, however, given that you’ve indicated you’ll be sending more.
Before I go any further, I’m suggesting you not get too excited about this; I’m not your type for 2 very important reasons that I won’t reveal. How do I know? You’ve made numerous references in any number of blogs as you regale your minions of adventures in love[less]land.
I’ll be sure to check myself if I start falling in love with your typewritten pages. Since it’s evident from said notes that you’re capable of stringing sentences together (with proper grammar and spelling!), I’m guessing those two reasons are variations on the “old” and “out of shape” infractions germane to men in my age range that I regularly bemoan here. Sadly, meeting in the brick and mortar world — as opposed to the online dating universe — is always preferable, as looks become less important. Given that you are, regardless of your aversion to the term, both an admirer (of sorts) and secret (unknown to me), it would’ve been easy to just show up at the bar one day and hang out. No need to make a big deal out of it. Actually, you could still just show up. There’s no way I’d know…
Why bother then? Because you’re worth it; I get the sense that you like mental stimulation… and fun. (There’s NO stalking! Jeez! And no “ransom” intent. It was a graphic (font) device. “Ransom” suggest extortion and you’ll surely note I wanted nothing of you.)
Okay, first, let’s not get hung up on the word “ransom.” What I meant was that your “graphic (font) device” was reminiscent of ransom letters. No need to address that again.
Yes, you’ve got me wondering “Why bother?” I’m flattered that you believe I’m “worth it.” But worth what? Worth stimulating mentally? I’ll admit, there is a “fun” aspect to this, the curiosity and the time you’re taking to mystify me. Though then the question is, “To what end?” Will the letters just keep coming? Until? Until I lose interest? Because if, as you’ve indicated, we will never meet, then what is the intent?
So please accept what follows — and this may take some time — in the spirit in which it’s offered.
Agreed. Though I’m a bit wary of what’s to follow. Letter after letter, letting me know how I can be a better…blogger? Dater? Human being? Or perhaps merely have my ego eternally stroked? I’d say I’m game for anything but, well, that would be an untruth.
Also, a favor. Please don’t beat me up too much in Bloggedyville. There’s something to be said for “stirring the animals” (as H.L. Mencken referred to the masses), it’s another for your gangs (and you have them) to attack when someone, anyone, dares to ding the tiara of she that wears the crown. Frankly, I’m surprised you had ZERO replies to the “stalking” piece (thank god!)
Bloggedyville? Hah! I was surprised, too. I have no idea what motivates people to respond, though a catfight sure brings in the hits! I won’t make any promises I can’t keep. Thus far there’s no reason to beat you up. But given that I have no idea what’s to come, I can’t predict how I will react. I find it hilarious that you (and other commenters) believe I have these “minions” and “gangs” and “supporters.” On my best day, my blog had about 200 hits; only a few of my readers are friends. Sure, there are a rabid handful who defend me but they are usually coming from a place of not just knowing me better but knowing what I mean. Often the catfights result when my words are misconstrued. Besides, if they were to “attack,” what would it matter? You are — and will, apparently, remain — the Mystery Man. Is your skin that thin, even from afar? And from strangers?
And one last thing: in context of “which is worse, the ones that got away or the ones that never were?” the “never were” (implicit being “never gonna be”) was a simple “floated idea.” Go to YouTube and type in “the people that you never get to love” (the “mrquickryder” version.) It may be too sappy for you (the Susannah McCorkle version is the best; unfortunately unavailable) but I think you’ll appreciate the sentiment of the lyric. Or not.
I still don’t quite understand your thought process behind these notes. The first one was a “floated idea?” A sort of “what if?” From reading the rather wistful lyrics of that song, I understand what you’re getting at. Though I can’t even imagine all the people I never got to love. I’ve loved (and continue to love) so many. Why waste time on regret? If you are including yourself in the group of people (men?) I never get to love, aren’t you counting yourself out of the game before it’s even begun? Do you believe in yourself so little?
I dunno…I suppose this will unspool in whatever way you choose, since you’re sort of in the driver’s seat. Or sender’s seat. Let’s just see, shall we?