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Come. Ravage me with your wine drenched mouth and carpenter hands.
If you were here now
we'd get in trouble.
The stewardesses
would have to pull us apart.
We both thought
we’d have more
time, and then I
left. I’ll always be
sorry for that.
Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar.
I just don't have any enthusiasm
for engaging with a man who is
in a relationship with another woman.
I’m thinking about that time
you tied me down to your bed
and unbuttoned my jeans.
CONTENTS
The Letters
Text of Selected Handwritten Letters
Other People's Rejection Letters
INTRODUCTION
The first time I read a love letter that wasn’t addressed to me, my heart danced a guilty little dance.
A confession: Not only wasn’t the letter mine, but it was written to a woman I was dating. She was in her bedroom, deciding on shoes; I was killing time in her kitchen, nibbling almonds. On her counter, the usual mess: a few photos, an address book, small piles of bills. Perhaps I looked a little more closely than I should have, but atop one pile, seated like a king, was a love letter.
I picked it up, I did, and I can’t say I’m proud of that. But once I did … well, there was no turning away. That love note, rough-edged and wrinkled, had a curious effect on me. Confusion, yes, and a hint of vulnerability, but something else too. What her other man had written—a year ago? ten years ago? I had no idea—felt strikingly similar to a note I’d scratched out to her only a few weeks before. Not the words, exactly, but that flood of emotion, the playfulness, the optimism. It all seemed so familiar. A question twittered in my mind: Was our relationship as special as I had thought? At the same time, his note was clearly his own, with its inside jokes and (vividly) spelled-out desires. In fact, I could hardly believe it was written to the woman I thought I knew. I read it twice.
Three times, actually.
I WONDERED WHY SHE HAD LEFT IT THERE. IT WAS PROBABLY BY ACCIDENT. But it also could have been by accident-on-purpose, in which case what was she telling me? Had he touched something in her that I hadn’t? Did he mean something to her that I didn’t? And then the bigger questions swooped in: What role did this letter play in her life? Was it something she had unearthed to remind herself of how good love can get … or how fleeting it can be?
Why, in short, had she saved this nine-line scrawl? And was she so different from everyone else? I began to consider what these much-folded pieces of paper might symbolize for us, emotionally; why some we toss within moments, why we hang on to others for decades. Is it because each letter from an ex represents a road not taken? And each letter from the person we’re still with reminds us of what brought us together? Or could it be because a love letter recalls that moment in our life when someone saw our best self?
SO I STARTED COLLECTING OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LETTERS. I contacted everyone I knew, and asked if they would send me any they’d been keeping. Eventually, I even assembled a team of researchers to do more legwork (these brave souls went so far as to call their exes … who called their exes) until the web expanded far beyond our own circles.
I wasn’t interested in the kind of correspondence typically found in love letter collections. Not the quill-tip pen variety that Ben Franklin sent to Mrs. F during their courtship. I sought love letters, e-mails, text messages, and postcards written by regular people in relationships probably much like yours. And who wants to look only at letters that present bouquet after bouquet of love’s red roses. Modern love is complicated. It bobs and weaves, takes two steps forward, one step back. I wanted letters that not only captured the whispered promises of endless love, but also candid moments of uncertainty, bitterness, and regret. The thorns.
Envelopes began to arrive, each holding what, until the moment I opened them, had been a very private message. Inside the first, a tender apology. The second brought two single-spaced pages of triple-X lust. After that: “I’m not feeling what you’re feeling.” In the end, I had hundreds and hundreds stacked in my living room.
HERE’S SOMETHING I LEARNED ABOUT LOVE LETTERS: MOST DIE AN IGNOMINIOUS DEATH. They’re torn up, tossed out, and fed to the dog. Burned, buried, and flushed. The letters on the pages that follow are the survivors. They were saved and savored. And, now, they’re shared: Every letter here is reproduced with permission from its writer.*
Who wrote these letters? You name it: helicopter pilots, musicians, sociologists, sales reps, students, retirees, housewives, computer programmers, consultants, construction workers, architects, teachers, kids, lawyers, store clerks, filmmakers. The faithful and the adulterous. Maybe someone you know. Maybe your lover.
Gathering these letters provided me with a rare opportunity: the chance to freely poke through other people’s intimate correspondence and not feel the least bit ashamed about it, as you might one day should you let your eyes wander for too long on someone’s kitchen counter. After all, while almost everyone will get a love letter at some point in his or her life, it’s unlikely to be passed around the dinner table. More often it will be squirreled away in the back of the file cabinet in a folder falsely labeled “auto insurance.” (Note: If this is where you’ve been hiding yours, now might be a good time to rethink that.)
Like those still-hidden letters, the notes collected here were written only for a lover’s eyes; they are unflinchingly honest. Reading them is like picking the lock on a stranger’s heart and peering inside during the most intense moments of his or her life. But the fascination here is more complex than a simple case of voyeurism. Because, on a deeper level, the heart you’re looking into is your own.
*In a handful of cases, the letters are reproduced with the permission of the writer’s closest living relative. Also, some letters have been slightly altered to protect the writer’s identity or that of the recipient. One more thing: Not all letters are reproduced in their entirety.
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REOPENING THE ENVELOPE
A few contributors reveal how it felt to search through their closets, garages, and hard drives—through time itself—and wander into their romantic back pages. Some were overcome by warmth and nostalgia; others experienced heartbreak all over again. But nearly everyone said that, within the envelope, they found a little peace.
i regret some of what i wrote
“I thought digging up these old letters would be no big deal. I thought I’d mourned, healed, and moved on from all of my serious and not-so-serious relationships over the last ten years. But apparently not: I was completely surprised by how painful it was to look at the permanent record of all these lost loves.
“I noticed a couple of things: I’m blessed in that I have some gift with words, and that I can use words to inspire joy in someone or to comfort someone. But there’s this dark side that when I’m hurt or in pain, I can draw blood with my words. And I regret some of what I wrote out of anger or hurt. I feel real shame from this. Did I cause harm to someone? I’m seriously thinking about going back to some of these guys after all these years and apologizing.”
it was first love
“I hadn’t read the letters since I’d received them—that was about fifteen years ago. It was a college relationship, my first love.
“As I read them, I had this sudden desire to feel that intensity again. I wanted it back in my life right now. But when I thought about it, I came to realize that you can never re-create those feelings because it was the first time, the first love. And that’s actually the beauty of it: If you could experience those feelings again, then they would be worthless.
“After I read the letters, I e-mailed her. We hadn’t talked in five years. We had a laugh over our letters because they were so gooey and naïve. But I felt a little different about them than she did: I was probably more nostalgic, more romantic.”
a great honor
“My mother and I went through stacks and stacks of my grandparents’ letters. They had corresponded for four years, sometimes three times a week. It was a great honor to be able to see the intricacy of their courtship and that they truly adored each other until their parting breaths. My mother and I were both touched by their love. I don’t mean that in the cliché sense—we could see that their love affected all of us as developing people.
“We spent days reading and organizing them, and then my mother decided to assemble a book of all of the letters. We gave one to everyone in my family. They, too, were entranced.”
who was i then?
“Reading them again was disorienting. You remember thinking the thoughts and writing the words but, man, you can’t touch those feelings. It’s like they belonged to someone else. Someone you don’t even know. I’m aware, in an intellectual way, that I felt all of those things about her, but those emotions are far away now.
“What’s so strange to me is that I can’t even force my heart back to that place where I felt that all-consuming passion. That makes me feel distant from myself. Who was I then? Will I ever be able to get back to that place? Reading the letters again made me wonder: Which is the real me? The one who saw the world in that emotionally saturated way, or the me who sees it the way I do now?”
i cried my eyes out
“When I read a few of the letters, I just cried my eyes out. It was like I experienced the end of each relationship again.”
a nice surprise
“I didn’t know these letters existed. My grandmother died before I was born, so this was the first time I’ve ever heard her voice, heard how she constructed her thoughts. It was an amazing experience. Sometimes she seemed demanding, sometimes she seemed scared. The stories I’d heard about my grandparents were that they were so different, but to have a glimpse into their sweetness and excitement about love was a nice surprise.”
my love comes in many shapes and sizes
“By going through my old letters I saw that my love comes in many shapes and sizes: Some are free-falls in a mad, passionate way. Some loves have been more friendship-based, sweeter and warmer. Looking at these letters reminded me that I’ve had the opportunity to experience many types of men and relationships, and that all of these romantic adventures make me who I am.
“I saw progress in how I dealt with rejection and pain over the years. When I split up with a couple of these men, I was in my closet thinking I could never come out … but here I am. Looking back gave me a sense that I had survived.”
POSTSCRIPT
How did the lovers meet? Did they live happily ever after? Here’s the story behind a few of the letters, as well as an update on how the relationship fared.
Where do you stand on chains?
The writer walked by a shop window and saw her: a beautiful salesclerk. So he stopped in, bought something he didn’t need and, quite intentionally, left his glasses on the counter. When he returned to pick them up, he also got her e-mail address. They flirted for two weeks (exchanging dozens of notes) and dated for four months, during which time he found out exactly where she stood on chains.
Peace. Sweat. Everything!
It took her about two hours to create this illustration and, as she remembers it, perhaps a bit longer than that to pick out the perfect color of red lipstick for the pucker. The couple met in college in ′92—she liked his Morrissey shirt—and have been together ever since.
I love you, Gary
The couple met on JDate. Her note was written one morning when he had to leave for work and she stayed in his bed. She knew this note would make him smile when he returned that night. She was right, and they’ve been married for more than two years.
Thank you, I hate you, I’m sorry
She gave this note to her boyfriend just before moving to New York City—without him. They spent two years apart—“growing up and living life,” she says—but never stopped thinking about each other. Then, on his own, he moved to New York and they began seeing each other again. She says they don’t for a minute regret the decisions they made—to go, to stay—that brought them to where they are now: sharing an apartment.
6:35 A.M.—Gone for my walk
Donald and Mildred were married in 1937 with only $17 in the bank. Two years after celebrating their Golden Anniversary, Don underwent open-heart surgery; unfortunately, his aorta ruptured, leaving him in a coma for two months. He awoke with compromised mental and physical abilities, but recovered enough to draw Mildred a love note before his morning walk—which he did every single day until he died, five years later.
Hi Lauren
She left her small New England university to spend her junior year at a school about an hour outside of London. Early on, she met a guy, a Brit, and was, she says, “quietly in love with him” the entire year. The night before she returned to the States, they finally kissed. As she was leaving for the plane the next morning, a mutual friend handed her this letter. They e-mailed now and then but after a couple of years fell out of touch. Recently, she was flipping through a stack of old letters, read this note, started wondering … and decided to reach out to him. They e-mailed about five times before he hopped on a plane. She hadn’t seen him in ten years but they had “the most beautiful, romantic weekend. He’s coming again soon.”
Subject: money and house stuff
Molly and her husband divorced after eight years of marriage. Both are in relationships now and they remain friends.
You sure looked good in those sweats
Chris and Roz were high school sweethearts. But during his freshman year of college, Labor Day weekend of 1984, Chris was killed in a car accident. Roz has saved the note and maintained a close relationship with Chris’s mother for more than twenty years.
Dear beautiful
It was another blind date; this time her uncle had set her up. The plan: Meet outside of her fancy Midtown Manhattan office building. How would she recognize him? “I’ll be the guy with the hole in his boot,” he told her. And there he was, covered in dust from his construction job, with a big hole in his fraying boot. What was supposed to be one drink turned into two … then a ride on the Ferris wheel in Toys R Us … then dinner. He wrote her this note exactly two months after their first date, delivering it rolled up and tied with a string, along with two red roses. They were married in July 2006.
Will you be my wife?
His girlfriend was always the photographer. She’d somehow managed to capture every one of their special occasions with a Polaroid—their first New Year’s Eve together, holding hands on a trampoline, the night they watched for falling stars. So it just seemed right, he thought, to capture the memory of his proposing to her. On November 5, 2005, he asked her to look for a surprise inside the drawer of a small table. While she rifled through the drawer, he got down on one knee beside her. When she finally found this Polaroid, he had the ring waiting. She looked up from the picture, and he asked her to marry him. She said yes.
Mi flor
The couple met during an intimacy exercise at a weekend workshop called “The Miracle of Love.” He had just gotten out of a relationship and was more trying to figure out what went wrong than looking to meet anyone. But there she was. They’ve been together two years and recently held a commitment ceremony at California’s Joshua Tree National Park.
Nude
This card was written several months into the couple’s second attempt at a relationship. It was left for its recipient on the bed, and read in private later that evening. This time, they’ve been together for two and a half years. (The word “neyuwl” was, until very, very recently, one of the couple’s private jokes.
On the occasion of my being made aware of the birth of our firstborn
Ellen spotted Jack at a college bar. He was a junior—and very cute. They fell in love. She became a teacher in Harlem; he became a Marine, a lieutenant. They were married in February of 1968 and moved to the base in Quantico, Virginia. She was well into her pregnancy when, in March of 1969, Jack shipped out to Vietnam. They exchanged frequent letters and audiotapes, and even talked on the phone once. Their son was born on June 6. On June 30—just a few days before he was set to leave Vietnam and see his boy for the first time—Jack was killed. Ellen saved every one of his letters and, thirty years later, their son, John Hulme, used the letters—including this one—to retrace his father’s movements during the war. Ultimately, he and Ellen found the very spot in Vietnam where Jack lost his life. John made the documentary film Unknown Soldier about their experience.
While you were out getting stoned
This note, left on her desk by a coworker, ignited a first date for the last night of 1999. The couple married in 2004.
A year with Pooks and Dude
Judith (“Dude”) created this booklet in 1970 for her husband Jonathan (“Pooks”) to commemorate their first year of marriage. After thirty-seven years, they’re happily married with three grown children and two grandchildren.
It’s a dusty one today
This letter was sent from Iraq, where the author was flying Blackhawk helicopters. The couple met in high school, in 1977, and married in ′81; they have three grown children. He’s completed two tours of duty in Iraq and is expecting to return for a third.
I can’t call you on your birthday
Erica Smith blogged this open letter to her boyfriend, Ben Stern, on what would have been his thirty-sixth birthday. He died of a heart attack on January 23, 2005, while the couple was walking through a park during a blizzard after midnight.
Braille
After the Great Depression, when jobs were still hard to find, a carpenter began working at a residential institution for the blind. There, he met a secretary. She was plucky and sociable, and although she had lost her sight in her early twenties, she could still type. She typed him love notes and he taught himself Braille so he could write back. He gave her this card for Valentine’s Day with the card’s message lovingly, if not accurately, translated in Braille and signed “love from Pete.” They married and had one child, who shared this letter.
I think you know how much my life has changed
She was a summering legal intern, he was an attorney, and, yes, they met in the copy room. She was Xeroxing stacks of documents and he kept coming in to make tea. On his tenth trip for tea that morning he said “hi” and asked her to lunch; they started dating that day. The note was written at the end of her internship. They’ve been dating for three years.
Mr. H Goldberg: Your letter on hand
Frieda, the daughter of a rabbi, lived in Toledo, Ohio. While visiting Springfield, she met Harry, a man in his mid-twenties, who owned a small mom-and-pop grocery store. Harry’s story was compelling: At sixteen, he had emigrated, by himself, from Poland to New York, where he worked in the sweatshops, and then from the sweatshops to Springfield. This note was written in response to one of his first letters to her. Their quick courtship played out entirely on paper—they never dated before they were married, when she moved to Springfield. They lived in a house attached to the grocery store (open 7 a.m. to 9 p.m.), where they both worked. Frieda and Harry had three children and were married for fifty-eight years.
I might marry you
Jacob and Phoebe have been friends since they were infants. Both are still single.
Darling
In the mid-thirties, a traveling salesman (he specialized in jeans, boots, and Western gear) walked into a shop in Trinidad, Colorado, hoping to make a sale. When he saw a stunning young woman working at the counter, he asked her out for a Coke instead. They went on a couple of quick dates—including a boat ride on a pond where she plucked a small stone from the shore as a souvenir—before he got back on the road. He continued traveling and their courtship unfolded almost entirely by mail. They married in 1939 and remained madly in love until he died in 2001. When she died two years later, she was buried with the stone she had kept from that first boat ride.
Reasons why I love Kay
Don and Kay were married for twenty-four years. Not long after this note was written—composed, as Don says, “as a gift”—Kay was killed in a highway car accident.
Subj: (no subject)
This e-mail was written by the husband hours before he was going into surgery … just in case. He pulled through, and they recently celebrated their twenty-first anniversary.
Hello, Cheryl. What’s happening?
Cheryl was sixteen, and living at home in Rhode Island. Ricky was in the Marine Corps stationed in Hawaii. Her brother, also in the Corps, also in Hawaii, suggested that Ricky become pen pals with his kid sister. And so they began writing back and forth … and back and forth. Over four months, she wrote him more than sixty letters; he wrote her more often—one a day until he was shipped home. (His very first letter is included here.) His home, as it turned out, was just thirty-five miles from where she lived. The first time they saw each other was when she picked him up at the airport. After dating for two and a half years, they were married in 1979. Every once in a while, she says, they still take out the letters—they’ve saved them all—and “laugh at how young we were.”
Jane: Look, I’m incredibly confused.
The couple dated for two months.
Subject: Hey babe
They connected on an Internet dating site and e-mailed for a month before meeting each other. This e-mail was written a few days before their first date: She picked him up at the train station and there he was, holding a rather large bouquet of flowers. It was, she says, love at first sight. They’ve been together for two years.
TEXT OF SELECTED LETTERS
25 more days
July 23, 1992
Hi baby –
I miss you!
I haven’t talked to you for 2 days! That’s two days too long!
How are you doing?
Right now I am studying for my Big FINAL tonight. I am reading the chapter on Interpersonal attraction and all I can think of is you.
Well, here’s some definitions for us:
Passionate love: An intense and often unrealistic emotional response to another person. It is interpreted by the individuals involved as “love”. Well, we do have passionate love, but we also have
Companionate love: Love that rests on a firm base of friendship, common interests, mutual respect, and concern for the other person’s happiness and welfare.
My book say companionate love is the best kind & it is the love that keeps a relationship going. I think we have strong companionate love, what do you think?
I guess I should get back to studying! I love you!
Sally 🙂
To my Darling Husband,
Who would believe that almost four decades have passed and my love for you is still the focus of each and every day of our lives.
Many years ago you told me that you would always be my best friend. At the time I thought that statement was cute but somewhat meaningless—How wrong I was! Throughout all these years you have been not only my best friend, but my champion, my lover, my advisor, my buddy, my cheering squad and my support for all the myriad of incredible situations that constantly occur.
I cherish all the moments we share and hope that the next decade of years is kind to us so that we can celebrate our lives together and reap the goodness we constantly seek.
Know always that I love you and feel complete as your partner in life.
Darling, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time. How about a photograph of you? There is a spot on my dresser that my eye catches the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night and I can think of nothing I’d like better than to have your picture there—
Dear Daniel,
Thank you for a great week—You brought back a smile in me that doesn’t surface all that much. Although the choice I made this week may not have been a totally wise choice, I don’t regret it and I’m so glad I got the to meet you + know you + smooch you too. I wanted you to know that your conversation stimulated me, your intellect impressed me, your body amazed me and your smile melted me.
The first thing Theo said to me was that I looked different—And he was right—I feel different
You’ve opened up a side of me that I wasn’t really sure I wanted to see—but here it is and I’m dealin’ with it.
I have to go now—but thanks again for such a great time
xoxo
Di
4-15-03
Dear Lesli,
It’s a dusty one today. Our tent has no floor, so the dust is everywhere. At least the wind is keeping the heat down.
They say we should be moving even further north; probably by the time you get this. But it seems the farther away you get, the better and faster the support comes, since they’re almost forced to fly it in on C130’s.
I guess it’s green and cooler there, so if we have to spend the summer here, it’ll be tolerable. I’m of course hoping they just let all of us come home, and let some other country handle the occupation crap.
I have a feeling there’ll be alot of idle time, just waiting to get the hell out of here.
They gave us some bottled water today, so I get a break from the chlorine! I’m going to save all the lemonaid for the “hard times.” Keep sending that stuff! Water is truly like gold out here. Nothing else matters if you don’t have that.
By the time you read this, I’m sure your birthday has come and gone, and maybe even our 22nd.
I just want you to know how much I love you, and how much you matter to me. I’ve got your picture in front of my ID card in my wallet, so every time I pull it out, I see your smiling face, and beautiful eyes.
So I hope your birthday was wonderful, and that the kids made you a cake!
I miss you like a cool breeze, and the muddy smell of a new spring complete with flowers, and green grass.
Love,
Gregory 🙂
August 3, 1976
Hello Cheryl,
What’s happening? Yeah, this is Ricky, the guy that was so anxious to write!
I guess I should start by telling you about myself. Even though I sent a picture I mind as well tell you what I look like, my height is 5’11”, brown hair and blue eyes.
Before I say anymore you’d better sit down and relax cause this is going to be a rather long letter.
As far as what kind of personality I have, I really don’t know, but if it helps alot of people call me & Jim brothers. Plus of the fact he and I are always around each other. I’m also a very affectionate person and I can be rather forward at times. (Like I said, at times).
I graduated from St. Louis High School of Hawaii, this sounds rather wierd but it’s rather a long story to explain.
I have a father, 4 sisters and one brother. I just thought I’d just give you a more or less of an idea of what kind of family I come from. Of course Jim told you that I come from Dartmouth, Mass. And the fact that I have 4 months left in the corps. (I can’t wait for that day.)
Cheryl, I don’t know what kind of letter you would call this but I’m not used to writing girls I haven’t really met. So, I hope you’ll bear with me. Okay
In case your wondering, I was engaged once, (a year ago) but I’d rather not go into details about a past thing.
Beleive it or not, I live about 15 minutes away from your house. I guess it was fortunate to meet Jim. Jim and I have already made plans of me going to pick him up at the airport next year. I imagine we’ll always be friends.
You wouldn’t believe some of things your brother and I have done.
I found out a little about you before I wrote, and Cupid has come to the conclusion that you and I would get along great. (But don’t tell Jim).
Well, Cheryl I don’t think I should make this letter much longer, cause I don’t like getting bored either! HA HA I don’t know what kind of ending I should put, maybe you know, but for now I’ll just have to sign my name!
Ricky
Hello! I’m bored. I had nothing better to do. I’m gonna be at Tom’s house, and then go to the game. I hope you can come.
(Here goes nothing) will you go out with me? I know you’ll say “No,” and you probably won’t talk to me, plus U like … (of course U know). I’ll be at Tom’s so call me there (_ _ _ - 3950). If you say “No” (which will happen), can we still be friend
DON’T TELL EMILY SHE WAS RIGHT!
See Ya.
Sobo
P.S. If you say “Yes” (It won’t happen), we better talk to each other more, than U and Kraft.
I know that dollar-wise things have been a little tight, and looking back a little unfair, too. You know that eventually things are going to ease up a bit, and in the mean-time, I promise to make it more fair. The whole situation is unfair to you. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice like this, but you have done so willingly and cheerfully. I really appreciate it! You’re a champ.
I’m doing everything I can to make our evenings together, longer. I hope you’ll be patient until, one way or another I start getting home earlier.
I thank you for all you’ve done for us, endured for us, and loved for us. My marraige is so important to me – because of whom I married. You’ve made me the happiest, most happiest, of all happy.
Love,
Natie-pooh
a.k.a. Nate the priMate
In writing anything to you, I always end up frustrated with the results. One reason for that is because I don’t like my writing (or pretty much anything else about myself for that matter), and the other reason is a bit more complicated. I could sit here and write an entire novel about my love for you but it would never be able to fully express how I feel. Describing my love for you is like trying to explain why snow is white. They are both unchangable facts of life that cannot be argued. I have a hard time remembering if there was ever a time I didn’t love you. And you know what, maybe I always did love you, even before we met. I was always in search of someone like you. Someone that would always love me and not be afraid to tell me that she loved me. Someone who would touch me with soft tenderness that showed to me just how much she loved me. Someone that I could say anything to, and who I actually truly enjoyed talking to. Someone that would make a wonderful, nice, caring, loving mother. I love you ______ and if you ever want to be reminded of that, just look in my eyes. They will always show my love for you …even when you pick at your fingers. 🙂
Yours Forever,
_________
12/24/2003
It’s hard to believe that one year ago I never dreamed of the real possibility of us actually being together. I love you so much. When I think of all the events, emotions and trials that we have been through over the last year, it overwhelms me. Still, the constant thought and desire of sharing our lives together has never waned. I do know that we are perfect for each other, and in some way God did mean for us to be together. It’s so unfortunate that possibly His original plan was thwarded by your mother’s desire to control your young adult life. Also, that the lives of our families has been turned upside down. Still, God is able to make good out of the most hurtful times as you well know. I know as we continue to pray for healing, He will do that in the hearts of all those we love. Thank you for giving up your world to come be a part of my world—one that we can share each day by expressing it in ways that we both never thought we could experience—I love you—Merry Christmas
7/31/02
I’ve been thinking a lot about our arguments this summer. I thought I should share my thoughts w/ you, since I always advocate complete honesty. We still have quite a lot to learn about each other, especially why, how and what we are thinking. While we aren’t getting along well, I think (and hope) that we are growing more now than we ever have before
And just to let you know, I still sometimes find myself staring at you and feeling that God could not have crafted a more beautifully sweet angel, and oh how undeserved I am when I hold you.
I love you,
_____
1-19-98
MLK Day
Dear ______
Thank you for your thoughtful letter. It took courage to write that! I appreciate your sharing your thoughts with me, and I hope we can speak more—and face to face. I apologize for not responding sooner, but both work deadlines and my emotions prevented me from doing so until now.
I am pleased that you feel so deeply for _____ and that you care for her so much. It is not my intention to interfere with your relationship and it’s many dimensions—friendship, romance, companionship—except for one: intimacy. And there, on that one level, I have concern for your choices and actions.
At the risk of causing you to shut me off, I must be honestly blunt and let you know I think you are both making a huge mistake in the new direction you’ve chosen in your relationship, and I don’t see any good in it. If you truly love _____ you would make it your top priority to protect her and guard her from harm or trouble. Instead you agree to an action that puts her in a very dangerous place—she could be subject to extreme physical and emotional consequences as a result of your actions. She could be subject to disciplinary actions by the school, which would lead to great hurt and embarrasment not only for her but for her Dad and for me. She could be subjected to riducule by her classmates (regardless of what you may think—kids can be just as hypocritical as adults!). Why would you want to put her in such a precarious position? For your decision and actions could easily place her in any of these situations.
2
True love always places the other first. If you truly love _____ please put her ahead of your own desires and wishes. Please do what is best for her. That is the mark of a selfless heart. I am not implying that you’ve made this decision on your own—I know you both talked and decided. But I am simply asking you to consider how much danger your actions place on her—much more so than on you (think Biologically here, in particular).
True love calls for honor, self-sacrifice, and self-denial. Mature love is able to conquer this for the sake of the relationship. Immature love grasps for everything and thus—arms overfull—loses all in the end.
In your letter you say “I know that you and _____ have a great relationship and I don’t want this situation to blemish it or deny me of having a relationship with you …” If you truly mean what you say, then you will have no trouble doing what I ask of you: STOP. Because if you continue, you will just keep hurting my relationship with _____ more and more—it’s already been painfully blemished by your actions. And if you truly want to have a relationship with me (and I hope you do!) then again, the way to accomplish this is in one word: STOP. Do not continue the action you have taken—GO BACK! Stop and go back. That’s all I ask. If you are able to do this, then I will know that you really do care for _____. If you choose to ignore me, then I will know not to trust you. The decision is yours. I am so hoping to meet and talk with you more about this. I know that probably sounds scary to you! But how else can we understand each other if we don’t speak openly and honestly to each other?
I hope you don’t mistake my firmness for dislike. I want to like you to understand you. But you must remember one key thing: no one loves _____ more than I do! So I am just very concerned that you will do right by her, that you will honor and care for her.
I wish you well. I wish you peace. I wish you wisdom and God’s deep grace. Like ripples on a pond when you throw a stone—your actions affect all in it’s path. May your actions be brave and true.
With affection & respect—
11 June 69
My E,
On the occasion of my being made aware of the birth of our first born, a son, the biggest feeling within me was one of elation. But even more than that is the feeling of thanking God for you. You who make up my whole life, love, and reason to be. Just think, Ellen, we have a son. I love you so much. I’m so lucky to have you for my wife! I love our baby so much. I hope your mother isn’t too disappointed that it wasn’t Sara Beth, maybe next time! You’ll have to forgive me but I’ve been down the O-club for awhile and I’m a bit tipsy but I don’t care because I’m filled with so much for you I could bust. I wish I was with you now. I’m so proud! I passed out cigars and got handshakes and congratulations. Ellen I love you. I’ll write again as soon as I get back on the wagon. Oh how I love you My E. and my son Jack.
Peter J. Dougherty,
Chief of Police.
PALMERTON, PA., Dec. 22nd 1911
My dearest Lizzie—
I dont know whether you seen me this morning or not, I saw you by the drug store where you met Miss Weignant. I expect to go to bed this afternoon, So I must write to my Sweetheart first.
I just received three nice presents from the Kuiblers. I appreciate them very much as I did yours. Tomorrow I will give you your ring, I received it yesterday and had the jeweler’s wife take it to Allentown and have it engraved. So I will be there to put it on your finger tomorrow afternoon, I showed it to the folks here and they think it very pretty, Sallie said if I would give it to her she would be my wife. But Pete’s love is all for his dear Lizzie, and hopes to make her happy when he gives it to her.
Well dearest, I told my Mother of our engagement, My Sister had heard it in Palmerton Wednesday when she visited the hospital, She hadnt told my Mother, So I had to break the news. Now they all know it.
When I said I felt different I didn’t mean that I felt badly about it, I feel happier than ever I dont know just how the weather is going to be tomorrow, if it is like this it would be as well for you to take the 342 on the C.R.R. and go right through arriving at Reading 545. Then we could spend the afternoon at Lamareux’s. We can decide that tomorrow, Then I will not see my sweetheart for some time.
But my heart goes with her and my love will last no matter how long we are apart.
Toledo Ohio
July 28, 1918.
Mr. H Goldberg
Your letter on hand and I was certainly surprised after I got through reading it. I surely did not expect to get a letter like that being that we have seen each others only once and then I did not have a chance to speak with you alone. I am sure that our correspondence did not lead up to that. I surely don’t see how you expect me to answer you but being that you say that you want to know if there is hopes, I must say that we all live on hopes, but we must see that our hopes come true. It would be a bad thing if we did not have “hope” with us.
I don’t know what you have heard of my father’s desire but I am sure that you would think different if you knew him. I surely can’t see what you meant by “answer as soon as possible.” If there is a chance for you were you can get a definite answer at once and I am keeping you back why don’t wait but go ahead. There is a saying “That a bird caught is worth more then a bird in the bush.”
Trusting that this letter reaches you in the best of health.
Hoping that I answered as soon as you wanted.
I remain, as ever,
Freida ___________
P.S. The family sends their best regards. Give my best regards to your sister.
Subj: hola
Date: 05/05/2008 8:32:47 AM Eastern Daylight Time
From: _______
To: _______
Sweetie, I havent had the chance to write you in a really long time, but I finally have a few minutes today, so I wanted to at least make sure I tell you I love you. I want you to know that I am glad that sometimes we have our little fights, and that it just means that we are being real with each other. That first little bit of a relationship is fun, but it isnt real, sometimes people disagree and they fight, and sometimes they get on each others nerves. My favorite rule of management is that you have to make sure that you are making enough mistakes, otherwise, you just aren’t trying hard enough. That same thing goes for love. I love that you make me want to be a better person, I love that you make me want to try to look better, be smarter, richer, stronger… You inspire me to greatness and to be who I am, and you inspire me to inspire you. Each day, I can feel us getting stronger, going further, understanding m more. I stand behind you in each decision you make, even when I disagree. I see and appreciate allthe great things that you do for me, and I hope you always remember that. I notice every little thing about you. Sometimes that can be annoying I know, but most of the time I am just seeing the way that you look at me, or the way that you go that extra mile to make me happy.
I guess I should stop writing eventually, or this thing will go on forever, but sweetie, I really love you.
Te amo
Hoy
Manana
Siempre
Con todo elcorazon y todo el cuerpo
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Lots and lots of people contributed to this book (see below) but none more so than the amazing Julia Lazarus, Daniel Souweine, and the other superhuman reporters—Teresa Dumain, Betsy Levine, Claire Vath, Kalli Rasbury, Jen Trolio, and Natasha Sarkisian—who corralled their friends, called their exes, and cajoled their currents.
Thanks to my agent, Brian DeFiore; to Doris Cooper, Lauren Shakely, Laura Palese, and Min Lee at Clarkson Potter; and to Matthew Snyder, Jenny Sucov, Mark Jannot, Maura Fritz, and Bernard Ohanian for all of their smart ideas. And to my family—Sasha, Soren, Mom, Dad, Vicki, Dean, Haim, and Chris, too—who have taught me a thing or two about love.
Also, my deep gratitude to the hundreds and hundreds of people who searched their closets and hard drives, and shared their most personal possessions … as well as to those who didn’t want to share but still managed to convince their friends to do so. Without you, this book doesn’t exist: Amy Binder, Anna, Linda Permann, Paul Heaston, Barnaby, Jason Kersten, Judy Dutton, Angela Pierce, Molly, Ryan Shipp, Sarah Ballard, DRH, Carin Goldberg, James Biber, Jackie Mitchard, Jason Randel, Beth, Jeffrey Ho, the family of Rebecca and Simon Goldman, Sally Kuhlman, Jeff Nelson, Blankee, Antonia and Joseph Lombardi, Rai, Judith and Jonathan Souweine, Jean Kwon, Ted and Rosalie Goldman, Karen Ginsburg, Jonathan Hutchins, Basha, Peter and Esther Mazen, Erica Smith, Andrew Steele, Phoebe Levine, Kassra Nassiri, Christin Deener, Claire and Herbert Shapiro, John M. Burgess, Philip Dumain, Amanda Spielman, Kristen Costa, Bill Goldman, Inma Pena, Avnish Bhatnagar, Rebecca Lanthorne, Patrick, James Lockwood-Stewart and Barbara Stewart Hoff (children of Donald and Mildred Stewart), Stephen Vath, KellyAnn Kotropoulos, Lt. John William Hulme IV and Ellen Hulme, Nina Malkin, Jason Stutts, Zach and Brooklyn, Bim Ayandele, Roslyn and Gerald Schlenker, Johanna Womer Benjamin, Neill Livingston, Holly Lien, Adam Schroth, Lily Byrne, Pookoos, Nikki and Larry Steen, Jennifer Pisano, Johnny Sobolewski, Justin and Blythe Jonas, Gustavo Vargas, Matt Marrone, John Michael Shimer, Don Aprill, Al Suarez, Peter Levy, Joseph Pierson, Marisa Belger, Jennifer DeLeo, Lois Berson, Philip Goldberg, Donovan and Becky Harris, Kris Mikkelson, Ann Pollack, Ella Luttbeg, Joseph Plastina, Cara R., April L. Rondeau, Nora Woolley, Chris Borris, Chris and Maureen of Baton Rouge, Trina Kaplan, Cynthia Stein, Lauren Wolfe, Zachary Byerly, Alisa Blackwood, Evelyn Martin-Anderson and Leon Anderson, Rick and Cheryl Marland, Daniel Rowles, Lesli and Greg DeMoss, Trudy Remy, Bob Mladinich, Johnathan Player, Ivan and Amy Nanola, JBI International, Monica Dzialo, Kent Wagner, and those who wished to remain nameless (you know who you are). And a special thanks to the wonderful rar rar press.
Finally, thanks to the following, who graciously permitted me to reprint their cards, designs, and words in these pages:
CREDITS
C.1 reprinted with permission.
Hallmark Cards, Incorporated (Hallmark Licensing, Inc.)
C.2 reproduced by permission.
American Greetings Corporation
© AGC, Inc.
C.3, C.4, C.5, C.6
reproduced with permission from
rar rar press
www.rarrarpress.com
C.7 reprinted with permission from GoCARD
www.Gocard.com
Roche Laboratories, Inc.
“Gold,” from WHITE APPLES AND THE TASTE OF STONE: Selected Poems, 1946-2006 by Donald Hall. Copyright © 2006 by Donald Hall. Reprinted by permission Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.
Look for Other People's Rejection Letters at your local bookstore. See a sample here.
Fevered notes scribbled on napkins after first dates. Titillating text messages. It’s-not-you-it’s-me relationship-enders. In Other People’s Love Letters, Bill Shapiro has searched America’s attics, closets, and cigar boxes and found actual letters–unflinchingly honest missives full of lust, provocation, guilt, and vulnerability–written only for a lover’s eyes. Modern love, of course, is not all bliss, and in these pages you’ll find the full range of a relationship, with its whispered promises as well as its heartache. But what at first appears to be a deliciously voyeuristic peek into other people’s most passionate moments, will ultimately reawaken your own desires and tenderness…because when you read these letters, you’ll find the heart you’re looking into is actually your own.
• “i think UR great. wanna have wine & Tequila again sometime?”
• “I can’t believe you’re real, and I think about you constantly in some way or the other all day. I…