The D Spot

The last time I received a love letter, it was 1984 and I was 15 years old. The actual letter was an angry, tear-stained declaration of teenage love. Ferocious in it’s intensity and angst, it remains to this day the only written declaration of love I’ve received in the last 25 years.
Which is sad because I have been married for the last 15 of those years.
I have received cards, of course, with cute poetry mass-written by starving wanna-be writers. I have received jewelry (of the Sears and Roebuck line) and I have been told that I am loved.
But the sweeping “I love you so much I have to tell you in words” love letter is an art that is lost on my DH and therefore, forever lost to me as well.
How truly sad.
How romantic it would be to open my mailbox or email and find a love letter.
How thrilling to have something to read and read again, to treasure, and to have tangible proof that there is someone, somewhere, who cared enough to take ten minutes and actually share some feelings.
In the old days, entire courtships would be thru the written word. During wartimes of past and present, lovers separated by miles would have only the written word with which to express their love and in times of danger, I imagine those letters to be pretty damn intense.
Must I go to war? Must I move far enough away to be missed, in order to receive a love letter?
Perhaps I have held onto my 25 years old love letter because I knew even back then that the written word holds power. Maybe I realized on some level that those feelings, once written, were forever saved; sealed in the merging of ink and paper. I can read that letter even today and remember the feelings, the intensity of that moment in time, that awkward, fumbling, and heart-shredding teenage love affair.
::sigh::
Maybe its simply because of that power of the written word that I will never receive another love letter. Deep professions of love are not in my DH’s repertoire and I knew that when I married him. So I have no one but myself to blame.
But still….it would be nice to open my mailbox or inbox and find something sweet.
So since that is not in the works for me any time soon, I will wish instead that you, Dear Reader, will find many love letters in your own life, and that your inboxes will always be full of passion and romance.