DEAR Luke,
You might end up not reading this letter. That is not important. This letter is for me. To clarify my thoughts and feelings for you.
It sure sounds incredible, maybe impossible, that I would fall in love with you, and pretty wildly, on our first online meeting, our first virtual chat. But I am Mr. Possible. I am Love. And I am so ready for this. For you!
How did it happen? I grew up so cautious, so careful and protective of my feelings. For a long, long time, I was even a virginal knight like Percival or Galahad, a virgin warrior, fully armored, and always ready for war. No room for romantic feelings, no chance for lusty and lustful vulnerability. I fended off possibilities of love in my youth. I scorned romantic involvements. I let my head rule over my heart. (And to some extent, I still do!)
But then, I met Martin. The man who fell head over heels in love with me âat first sight.â Well, not literally at first sight if you count the three photos of me that I sent him on the first day that we talked. I met Martin online, too. It was still America Online, the AOL chatrooms, back in 2006.
I was already in California at that time, and I took the great risk of flying more than 3,000 miles to the American east coast for the first time ever to meet a complete stranger I just met online. (Again, complete stranger if you donât count the exchange of private messages â called IMs, instant messages, in those days â and the three phone calls to arrange my travel to Maryland.)
Martin said he instantly fell in love with me when he saw my photos, but he wasnât sure of anything until he saw me come out of the plane. And then, he fell truly, madly, deeply in love with me.
I totally understand now how he must have felt then. Because thatâs how strongly I felt for you when I saw you on our first video call. Like I knew it was you that I have been waiting for all through these five years After Martin.
Martin loved me from the first moment that he saw me; and itâs not hard to love back a man who adores you.
Because Martin was much older than I was, and because I was all so analytic and systematic about love, Martin and I talked things out. We reasoned with each other, and we decided things together. And I loved it because we decided on reasonable things. We decided to get into a relationship with him loving me like a full grown apple tree, and me loving him like an apple seed that will still need to grow to be an apple tree.
And I donât know. Maybe it was because I denied love and avoided relationships for the longest time up to that point, and maybe I was just becoming ripe for the picking, or maybe it was Martinâs mostly unconditional love that won me over â I really donât know, but more than the promise of fidelity and honesty that I gave him, I grew excited about the old man, and began to seriously care for him and his feelings.
I wanted Martin to be happy and proud of me all the time. I wanted him to want me more, and to be with me all the time. I liked sitting down and drinking black coffee with him in the kitchen in the morning. And I really enjoyed sitting down and sipping wine with him as we watched old movies on the television in the living room.
Martin made me feel happy and secure. I was feeling at home with him. And he said that about me, too. He said that I was his home. He said his heart was restless until it found me. He said that I gave him a new lease on life, a new reason to live more, and to experience life more fully in his old age.
Martin always said that he loved me the most in all the world. That unlike his past partners, he not only loved me, but he also liked me very, very much.
I didnât judge Martin for the choices he made before he met me; and I asked him to also respect my past, my history, and my Filipino culture. That was a key ingredient in my growth as a lover. That I was not judged for my past; and I was not worried about, or judging, my loverâs past. It made me more forgiving, more accepting, more understanding, not only of Martin, or of myself, but of all the other people in the world; and if I may be so bold, of God. More forgiving and understanding of God, and Godâs love!
Because Martin was not dirt poor, he taught me how to be more appreciative of life. We could afford things, but we lived simply. Sure, we indulged ourselves with travels, cruises, fine dining and great entertainment, but we were equally comfortable staying at home, drinking cheap wine, and eating only when we got hungry.
I never liked expensive clothes. I was never into fashion, signature clothes, or brands. Because I couldnât afford them before I came to America. Martin didnât encourage me to change that. In fact, he adored that about me: that I could settle for plain white Hanes T-shirts, and original fit Leviâs 501 jeans. The only big changes he made in my outfit were diamonds. Martin always said, âFor you, itâs quality diamonds, or nothing.â
I never liked jewelry. (I still donât wear a watch!) But I had my ears pierced for Martinâs first anniversary gift of a pair of diamond stud earrings. And the only other pieces of jewelry that I wear to this day are my white gold ring with 17 small diamonds from Marleyâs of Baltimore, and my 1.5 carat engagement ring from De Beers of New York.
Why am I telling you all these? Because I want you to look at me, and love me realistically. I am 51 years old. And I do not believe, for a moment, that we can ignore the differences in our age and financial status if we are to come into a love relationship that will survive in this new century. Modern love is more than just a matter of the heart in this new millennium. I mean, love should really be all about the heart and for whom it beats, but sadly, it is not the reality of 2020.
***
Valentine stopped writing. He started to reread the letter he had composed on his iPhoneâs Notes. He smiled at the turn of ideas, the change of direction that the letter had taken. He meant to write a letter to Luke, but he ended up celebrating his love for Martin.
But isnât that love for Luke, too? Like trying to help Luke understand where he was coming from, and where they could possibly go as a pair, a couple?
Then again, Luke might never get to read this letter. But for Valentine, the act of writing itself clarified for him what was confused and confusing, dark and muddled, unclear, and until then, was only an unexpressed thought that weighed darkly on his mind.
Valentine smiled again. He knew that he needed to write another letter to Luke. Even if Luke ended up not reading it, too.
***
(You may also follow this story on Wattpad under the account of @PeterSolisNery.)/PN
