Have you ever watched P.S. I Love You? I have decidedly begun to send you a long-lasting series of emails just like it — except that I’m not dead yet, and don’t plan to be for a very, very long time…so you might want to consider canceling the life insurance policy you’ve bought on me.
Each of these emails are meant to be as random as they are spontaneous, containing within, details of our relationship: our dreams and goals, our stories and experiences — both personal and shared, along with tidbits of wisdom procured by our very ups and downs. Because how strong can a relationship be, without aspiration of a better future or a continued willingness to adapt?
That said, none of these emails shall ever be urgent by nature, so if there’s a more important activity at hand like having sex, folding my clothes, or giving me a massage, please don’t stop doing what you’re doing just to read, because trust me, those activities are assuredly more important.
I guess the reason why I’ve started writing these emails is because of recent, I’ve been feeling as if we haven’t had as much time to connect. When we do talk, it’s often about work or finances — about whether or not we’re being productive, if there’s enough money for next month’s rent, or who’s marrying whom because then that’ll decide the gifts we buy — so while we’re talking, we’re not really communicating, and I miss that.
But perhaps you’ve been feeling the same way too, as last night you were the one to put your arms around me and suggest listening to music while waiting for our clay masks to dry. Regardless, I’m glad you did — because it was then I realized just how much I had missed our moments (and clay masks), but more importantly, the number of our moments I’ve forgotten.
I remember all the major ones of course — the first time we’ve ever gone out for a meal alone, our first movie together, the night of our first kiss, but many other moments, I’ve forgotten.
And those moments are actually what matters most, because collectively, they make up a greater part of all the time we’ve spent together. The story they tell isn’t of how we fell in love, but rather the way we were in love.
Do you remember the first bean bag we’ve ever bought? Booger, we named it, because that was how it looked.
Do you remember the first time I made you dinner? It was a surprise, something I had planned for days, but the night of, you were sick and could barely taste.
Do you remember the first photo I took of you that I really liked, when we had just woken up and you were were brushing your hair back against the glow of the morning sun?
I remember all of these.
But I don’t remember the first time we FaceTimed each other, the first time we flew together on a flight or even the restaurant we went to for our second date.
I also don’t remember how our pet names came to be, or what we had been arguing about last month, or the many things we said we’d do but never did.
And that makes me sad, because I know as time continues to fly by, we’ll have forgotten even more. Can you imagine ten, twenty, thirty years later, if all that we can remember are just a handful of all the moments we’ve had?
So I write, to preserve these moments because otherwise what would have been the point of working so hard for the sake of this relationship if we can’t even remember what we loved about it?
We have the same dream, you and I — to one day together, afford a life of freedom, adventure, and limitless creativity; to travel the seven seas and the seven continents; to go anywhere and to do anything we love without financial or physical limitations.
I love that dream. I also love the determination you put into your own craft.
When I see you push forward despite being frustrated, it inspires me to do better in holding against my own obstacles.
When I see you face your fears to once again attempt bad experiences, it reminds me to do the same, to never assume despite how bad the experiences were.
And when I see you grow as a result of the progress you’ve made, I’m proud of you and the relationship we’re in, because every relationship is only as strong as the individuals within. And quite honestly, there aren’t many things more attractive than a woman who’s driven… other than her butt.
So I write, because as necessary as it is for us to work hard towards a better future — to be where we want to be, it’s just as necessary to know what our past moments are like — to remember where we’ve been.
Those moments matter, because you matter.
Your perfectly healthy, and very-much-alive boyfriend (feel free to go ahead and cancel the life insurance now)
P.S.I Love You.