RAIN CHECK


Bright Spots? I consider myself a fairly talented reader, but I think that I would be pardoned by the harshest critic for my misinterpretation of such an oblique correspondence. Perhaps it's a matter of phrasing or vocabulary (I recommend you re-reference the definition of rain check) but I had previously read it to indiciate a malaised desire for solitude and a likely end of the amorous.

And so I was understandably distressed to find myself on Friday night watching reruns of the presedential debates in the company of my cats when I might have been enjoying the company of the lovely _____, the only impediment to such an evening being the fact that you find my very presence distasteful. It would appear that in your reevaluation of the shitload I was deemed rather valueless shit. Regardless of whether or why you find this to be so, I found your unexpected shunning bitingly insulting, seemingly unwarrented and very badly done. I should hate to know how you esteem the black spots in your life.

As for clichés, there is another one you should be familiar with that often accompanies the one you've selected (if, in fact, that one was true) that goes something like "Let's just be friends." It's one that, while unspoken, I (naively?) had assumed. The reason I have historically gravitated toward the more experienced gents, friends and lovers alike, is to avoid such petty bullshit, namely the awkwardness that results when the roles of lover/exlover/friend are assigned their scripts and then detained in their separate realms. I am surprised that you especially, with all of your professed respect for the amorphous nature of things should be so rigid in your delimitations.

This is all superfulous however. Your ceasing to be romantic was long expected, to be friendly, somewhat suprising, but your ceasing to be civil was offensive. Sorry for my shrewish tone, but it was an unpleasant discovery and an unpleasant weekend that's been irking me all week, and I don't like my wounds festering. This and the ice has made me brittle.

As for my book... If it were a scarf or an earring I wouldn't bother you, yet while I have feelings for all of my books, this one inspires a special affection (else I wouldn't have dared offer it up as a potential victim for your harsh judgements).

Hope all is well with you.

_____



the love letter collection
submitted 2:24 AM EST
saturday, march 1, 2008