Morning Anita,

I ended up emailing her last night (and borrowed a bit of your language)… Felt a bit silly about it before I sent it. I thought, “I’ve only known this girl since mid-November. We were hardly what anyone would describe as ‘dating’. Why bother?” But, I felt something–even if I misread her and she did not–and thought I’d say say what I felt. I’ve included my email below:

I’ve written and erased this a few times. I put too much credence into your reaction rather than just getting the words out. This is going to be a stream of consciousness email, so it may not be the most coherent; however, I just wanted to say what I was not able to articulate in person…

Firstly, thank you for being honest with me last night, and more importantly, with yourself. It was not an easy subject to broach, as I feared that I knew what your answer to be. I wish your truth was different, but it is what it is. I am grateful that you were honest with me and didn’t feel the need to dance around your truth, as I did not want to continue slipping into the unknown.

When you pictured your life with me, you may have visualized it as a friend that you have a relationship with. A life with me could possibly tend to not be one that excites you or lends to lassitude. You may have been content with me, but I would not compliment you. I wouldn’t be that “soulmate” that gives you butterflies and makes your heart skip. It may have been good or great for a few years, but it may have ultimately been fruitless. We may have gotten caught up in our lives, our routines, and years have passed before you (or even I) may have walked away. It was better to have the realization now rather than have you compromise your heart and your months or years of your time. Life with me may not have been easy. I still battle depression and will continue to do so until my days are over. I long for a companion in life but fear the loneliness when one of us is gone. I struggle with seeing the goodness in the world and believing better days are ahead for us as a species. I am often frustrated and irritable and only want the next day to arrive to restart. We are similar in many ways as we’ve discussed, and those similarities may have doomed us regardless of any emotional ties that would have bound us.

As much as I desired the love story, my intense work on myself last year, and our brief, rather undefined relationship, helped me grow in many ways. A year ago, I had not yet evolved into the more emotionally mature man that I am now. I was comfortable keeping those walls up, even though those walls hurt more than they helped—hurt both myself and those I let close. I mentioned last night that the pandemic and this time alone was difficult, but the loneliness forced me to confront myself and my shortcomings and to work hard on them. It was difficult emotionally (and financially), but it was necessary. When I saw you across the floor at the office back in January, yes, I was enthralled by your eyes and your beautiful smile. (Yes, I did look at your butt too but I’m trying to be respectful here.) However, had I asked you out then, and if you were truly in a place in your life to be emotionally receptive—a place you simply were not at the time—I do not think our first “date” would have gone as well as I did. I would have kept my walls up. I would have been more self-deferential and less vulnerable. You would not have known how captivated and charmed I was. I would have latched onto superficial “faults” and not allow myself to let you get close. This, as what I believe was the first date for both of us in 2020, would have led you to believe that I was just another emotionally unavailable man. Rinse and repeat.

Last night was not my finest moment. It was me vulnerable and stripped bare. The tears were not so much the loss of you, as I never really had a relationship with you to begin with. Yes, I felt like something may be budding but it was more only wishful thinking on my part. The tears were more so the weight of 2020 melting away. The new job in the new town far away from everything. Finishing grad school. The mandatory telework in March. The loneliness and isolation. A job that was much less than I had expected. The regrets and longing. The hours of counseling and the work it entails. The incessant, cyclical grind of work without the release. Starting back to the gym last fall. Encountering the same type of people every time I ventured out. Traveling solo across Appalachia to force myself out of the apartment on long weekends. It all came to a crescendo last night. But I was grateful you were a part of it—and accepted and encouraged it. You touching my hand at the restaurant, and holding me in your arms at your apartment, in an attempt to assuage me was beautiful (if not endearing).

And that rawness last night that simply would not have happened a year ago. I worked weekly with my counselor to be more open, more vulnerable, to practice emotional intimacy, and not be afraid to let the other person see the real me. (That is why I asked you this morning if it felt like you saw the “real me” and it caused you to flee.) A year ago, my self-esteem would have seen the loss of a potential relationship with you as a fault with me. I would have battled my ego to convince myself I was somehow not good enough for you. I would have seen myself as not handsome enough, or not masculine enough, or not smart enough, or some other silly attribute. However, our lengthy conversations these past months—and your head on my chest in the bed at the cabin, or your hand wrapped around my arm as we drove to the cabin and back—solidified that I was a strong, attractive man and someone you enjoyed your time with. Someone you enjoyed giving a part of your time to. Someone strong and handsome. I just am not the one for you.

I recall stammering something last night about how good our sex would have been. What I mean is, in past relationships, sex was the aspect of the relationship I was best at. I had several partners tell me that sex was the only time I let my guard down and they saw the real me. The intimacy of the physical act allowed me to open up on an emotional level—which is good in a way but also detrimental. Sex allowed me to block out everything in my mind and focus solely on my partner. I allowed myself to feel unencumbered and uninhibited, and my partners fed off that and allowed themselves to be free as well. Which, of course, fed my ego as I was able to do things to my partners that others had not. While I feel, at least for myself, sex with you would have been vastly different in a positive way, it ultimately would have clouded things for the both of us. I would have felt unshackled since I was able to be emotionally intimate with you outside of the bed, but you may have attached to me on a level that veiled those feelings (or lack of feelings) that needed to be addressed.

In you, I found someone I could be intimate with, without the need to strip off our clothes. Yes, I worked my ass off in counseling to get there, but there is just something about you I connect with on a deeper level, even though you’ve only shown me a piece of you. Since that first “date” at the cocktail bar, this brief relationship has been so cathartic for me. I know there’s much we don’t know about one another, and I hope we continue to grow closer as friends. I’m not religious, and not overly spiritual, but there is a reason that I met you when I did. I’d spent so much time on myself, that it would have been wasted on someone less compassionate or someone who too hadn’t worked so hard to better themselves. I’d like to think we both benefited from our time together. At least I’d like to think so.

I tried to articulate this on the phone this morning but permit me to try again. As we have talked about before, we each battle our own demons—I know there are things that you do not like about yourself—but continue working to build your exquisite garden. You are a beautiful woman both on the surface and below. Physically beautiful both in a simplistic, just out of bed, messy hair, and chapped lips way, and in a dressed up, made-up, hair straightened (and maybe curled) sexy way. Emotionally beautiful in your kindness, decency, integrity, and generosity. You are fiercely independent while also longing for a companion on your journey. You are intelligent, hardworking, hilarious and quick-witted, self-deprecating, empathetic, compassionate, mysterious, and enthralling. Yes, I know there are parts of you I do not know. Pieces you feared to show me. However, I cannot believe the bad outweighs the good.

And, yes, I began to feel those romantic sentiments. Began to feel a love story of something beautiful that continued to ripen over time. Began to visualize traveling the world together, and maybe finding a plot of land somewhere and settling down. But it was not to be, as you didn’t feel that same “spark.” And that is okay!! And while you do not feel as I did, having connected with you and spending these few months getting to know you, is an experience I would have regretted missing out on. You have been a rarity in my life, and we met at a time where I am emotionally mature enough to appreciate you beyond the cursory. Knowing we won’t have some sort of romantic love story does ache, but I will cut those strings that I began to tie to you, and those whims and feelings will fade in time. Losing them won’t change how much I care about you. It just means that I’ll care about you on a different level. And maybe, in time, we can develop something deeper, and more meaningful, as friends. You’re by no means perfect, as we are all imperfect, but you are (as you said) an old soul and I’m happy that the universe allowed me to cross paths with you. I have strived to be the least stressful piece of your life and hope that I can continue to compliment your life.

Never forget that you are worthy of what you desire. You deserve to be loved and revered. Deserve to find a partner who is that missing puzzle piece. One you don’t have to pound into place to make fit into your life. One who doesn’t force you to lose the freedom of who you really are. One who dances with you in the kitchen as you cook. One who you believe is worth the risk.

Okay, well, this certainly isn’t an email I’d normally write. In my head, it sounds sappy and emasculating but fuck it. This is the thinking of my old self. Thank you for being you. You were certainly unexpected and unanticipated, and life had certainly been sweeter with you in it.

You need not reply. I’ll be here if you’d like to spend some time together.

I do not know if she will reply, or even call/text to say anything about the email. I do now know if she indeed felt anything substantial towards me, or if she was scared of leading me on, or if she simply enjoyed the brief friendship, and when things got a bit more serious, she felt the need to pull back? As I said, I’ve only known her for a bit over 2 months, so did I really know her? Maybe I was just smitten/enthralled with someone new after being socially isolated for most of 2020? I feel that perhaps I jumped in too quickly. I went from largely isolated to meeting her for a hike, the first “date,” to calling each other often doing work hours. Granted, we only went out about once a week, so it’s not as though we were overly steady in our physical interactions. And she grew up in the area–has a strong support group of friends and family–so I was only a minor, temporary part of her life.

We still work together–albeit remotely–so I will clearly keep things professional. We work in the same office, but hold different jobs, so our paths do not often cross (with the exception of the weekly office video meeting. I know anything longings or sadness will diminish in time. But, blah, I do despise this feeling.

Hopefully I will find a job more fulfilling soon and that aspect of life can improve.

Ryan