I have reservations about posting this since it's so detailed and personal, but...I'll go with it.

So, this is a post I was working on last week.  Last Thursday, to be exact.

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Dear you,

It's been awhile.  We haven't seen each other in quite a bit.  Almost 3 months now?  May-June-July-August.  Four!  Soon five!  I hardly even remember the last time we saw each other, actually.  Well...now that I wrote that, of course I remember.  5am.  I fell asleep on you.

Not that i haven't heard about you in five months.  No, I'm not sure you realize how much you're still in my life.  The magic of having a mutual friend, I suppose.  The thing is, everything that's been said have been things that are driving me away.  That you're going to the shooting range with your roommate?  I really don't like that.  I'm weird about guns, since I've had friends die at the end of them.  And I very much do not support the idea that just about anyone can own one.

The other thing...you're still smoking pot?  Honeybee, you're in your 30s.  It's time to quit that shit.  I can understand some experimentation, liking it, doing it when you're carefree in your 20s and all.  But to regularly be doing it when you're in the 30s, good job, steady finances?  Now you're just running from something and supplementing it with something unhealthy.  It's being your escape.  You need to face that and quit that.

I suppose I shouldn't judge you so hard, because I bet there are several things you'd change about me.  I'm perpetually late, by at least 15 minutes. I know you're not a fan of the fact I let people walk all over me for things that aren't even worth it. I think you think I'm the least interesting of all my friends. If you knew me more, you'd probably dislike more things, too.

Despite all that, I still can't help that I want to see you.  I thought being away would make it go away.  And it has, sort of.  I don't think about you constantly.  I don't talk about you all the time, I'm fairly certain there's even been days when you don't cross my mind.

But that little flutter is still there.  I relive that one night much more often than I'd like to.  And it wasn't even anything too important in our lives - we held hands.  And not like that first time, when it was walking through a bar.  This was you and me, standing outside that club together.  You with your arm firmly anchored down around my back, mine around your waist, your hand so sweetly in my back pocket.  And then you insisted walking us back to my car, and we were going down the street and somehow your hand found mine and I can still feel the warmth as your hand closed around mine and that thrill that shot through all of me when your fingers spread through mine and we were locked hands, walking blocks, smiling at each other and swinging our arms just a bit.  For twenty seconds of my life, it felt like I finally had you.

And then the next time I saw you, when you nearly picked me up off my feet with the big greeting hug.  When you whispered that you wanted to stay by my side all night.  When we were all headed back to your place and we passed by that slightly shady part of town and I felt you tighten the arm I had mine looped through, bringing me closer to your side and you reached up to cover my hand with yours.  When I fell even more in love with you when we started discussing books.  When I fell asleep on you.

The funny part about all this is even I know that this doesn't matter too much.  What really matters is that you don't ask me for my phone number or contact me or really bother to keep in touch.  That the five months its been speaks volumes more than that hand hold.  That the important part is the non-communication, not those brief nights of smiles.

Well...obviously that's not the funny part.  Really, it's the sad part.  The one that makes me want to cry.

People tell me to forget about you. That obviously you're a bit opportunist, that you're kind of leading me on.  People tell me you're actually being a jerk this way, playing with my emotions and making me feel something that obviously isn't shared.

Maybe they're right.  You certainly haven't done much to prove all of them wrong.  But 

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I don't remember what it was that made me stop writing. I think I had to go back to work or a friend came into the Starbucks I was working in.  I really love that I stopped mid sentence - "...but."  It's so...cliffhanging, right?  I mean, what was I going to say to defend that?  How was I going to justify my still wanting you?

The part that I love is that so much has changed since last Thursday.  Let's keep it in the same style, shall we?

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Dear You,

It's certainly been quite a week for us, hasn't it?  I didn't see you for 5 months, and then I saw you twice in the span of 3 days.  Not just saw - we hung out. We had some drinks together.  I went to your house.  We have each other's phone numbers.

But you still make me want to cry.

I can see that we're not meant to be more.  Not right now, anyway.  It's one of those feelings that's just deep in my bones, that I know.  I told a friend when we first met that our timing was off - that in five years, you and I would be each other's One.  I don't even think you think of me in a romantic sense, thanks to my relationship with our mutual friend and that I'm so much younger than you ("so much," really, because what's 6 years in the long run?).  But right now it's just...not our time.

That doesn't make this any easier.  Knowing that we're not right for right now doesn't take away how attracted I am to you.  How easy it is for me to be around you, what we have in common, how funny and personable you are.  How much I still want you.  It doesn't take away our discussions, those nights we danced, all the drinks and shots we've had between us.  And unfortunately, i don't think it's going to prevent me from asking you to hang out or join us on nights out, and I don't think this was our last time being silly and stupid and drunk together.

But I can see that that's all it's going to be.  It'll be a good time, lots of laughing and most likely an equal amount of teasing and sarcasm.  Maybe it'll even be more hand holding, some flirting, potentially some more nasty naughty dancing, and it's just as likely that we'll call each other pet names and maybe even make the occasional insinuation that we could be more.  None of that would be the first time.

What would be a mistake is forcing this.  Because I can see that I am not what you want.  You can't have a serious relationship, not after your last...lifetime.  Not after what you went through.  Maybe you wouldn't mind dating, having a girlfriend again if she's the right one at the moment -- but I see that it's nothing that could be a wife in a couple years.

Not to say I want to be your wife, or married in the next decade.  But I like to have an option of a future with someone, and right now, I don't think you can offer that.  That's not a fault, it's nothing to blame you for; that's just where you're at right now.  I can see that.

And it's not like you're what I want.  I don't know what I want, first of all.  I'm not sure I'm ready for a relationship, or for dating even.  Which should probably end all of this right now. But I can recognize that if you did ask me out...I'd say yes.  So that has to mean something is ready in me, right?  True as that may be, I'm not one that can keep it casual and have the 'maybe...we're just enjoying spending time together' answer to give.  I'm too emotional for that.  I need to know what we are, and I don't have qualms about talking about it.  And I know that you are not someone who can give me the answers right now.

I want you to know how much fun I had these past few days.  That it was really good to see you.  That my heart fluttered when you opened your arms to me and called me beautiful.  That I was more than ready to say yes when you asked us to join you the next day.  That I liked when you came over to me after our gazes tripped over one another across the table. That you are a hilarious dancer, and yes, you are terrible - but I love you so much more for it.

And I want you to know that I won't wait for you.  That I am not going to hang around and see if you are ready, or when you're ready, or hope that you are ready.  I will not hinge my life on yours.

But if in five years...

It will be a yes.