Date: Fri, 24 Oct 2003 00:38:25 -0400
From: SmTwnBoi@aol.com
Subject: Love Lost - A Letter to Jason Becht

	I went to the club that night with hopes of having a good time with
my friends. I love to dance, especially when I am dancing with friends. I
do not like to dance alone. So, when we got to the club, we all went down
to the floor.
	My friends tired of it quickly, but I still wanted to dance. But
with whom? No one else I knew was there, and I was too shy to approach
anyone else who was dancing by themselves. So, I went to the second floor,
and stood at the railing looking at the dancefloor. That is when I saw you.
	You were standing a little ways to my left, and you were looking at
me. I thougt to myself "There is no way he is looking at me", but then you
approached me and said "You look like someone who wants to dance. Would you
like to?" Who says no to a cute boy?
	We danced all night. It was great fun. I learned that you were an
ex-stripper named Jason, aka Spike, and I told you my name is Luke. We
exchanged numbers out at your car, and both went our own ways home. My
friends had never seen me so excited. You were the first boy to ever
approach me at the club with more than sex on his mind.
	Well, two days later, I deemed it right to call you. I was so
worried that I was calling unacceptably early. What's the rule for waiting
a number of days to call?? Well, you were just as excited as I was that I
called. You never expected to hear or see from me ever again. We chatted
for hours, covering every topic possible. I loved it. There was something
just so natural about talking to you.
	We chatted every night. Sometimes for hours, sometimes not so long,
but the time did not matter because there was something about talking to
you that made me happy. What surprised me most was that you seemed to like
to talk to me just as much.
	One night, we were talking, and you off-handedly mentioned that
nothing was stopping me from coming over. I agreed. And I did something
spontaneous. I drove all the way to Connecticut to hang out with you and
Molly. We spent the entire night just listening to music and chatting. It
was wonderful. It did not matter the next day that I had not slept at all,
and had spent almost two and a half hours on the road. I went to work happy
as a clam.
	We continued chatting. We chatted while you took your nightly
bath. We talked about family, friends, pasts, futures, everything... I
enjoyed all of it. Even when you called me at 2am after just getting in
from work, I liked it. Sleep did not seem to matter as much as talking to
you did.
	After about two weeks, we agreed that we were and item, but that we
did not want to label what we had. As if labeling it would be bad luck. We
were monogamous, and unanimous about that. I guess some would say we were
dating, or that we were boyfriends, but the label does not matter. I was
yours.
	We spent several nights over each other's houses, and had a lot of
great fun. Sex was not an issue to either of us. I just loved to be in your
arms. We fit so well. I think we first had sex on the third week, and
strangely, it did not leave me feeling rushed as it had before with other
people. It felt timely, and right.
	One night, we watched Moulin Rouge. It was my first time watching
it, and I cryed a lot (like I am right now). Such a sad movie. It played
with my emotions a lot. But, I just held you in my arms and watched it. We
did have to take that break in the middle there though. You dryed my
tears. We did some other stuff too, *wink*. I fell asleep very contented
that night

	Now, on to one of our last nights together.
	As I lay there in the dark, looking at you, you asked me "what?"
for the hundredth time. And instead of my usually "nothing", I could not
speak. I was choked up. Everything was flying through my head so fast. I
had just realized that the boy in my arms... that this gorgeous man of a
boy in my arms... that I loved you. I did not have the courage to say it,
but somehow you could tell and you said "I love you too".
	I cryed as I clutched you. I was so happy to have finally found
you. You understood, without me even telling you. You reciprocated, without
even being asked or cajolled. We fit so well. I left to go home that
weekend, and as we hugged and kissed at my car, I whispered to you "I love
you." I do not know if you knew how hard it was to say those words. I was
so afraid to say them. They are dangerous words.
	We talked every night, and visited as often as we could. Then the
night came. You told me that you had to move away from me. I had just found
you, and you had to move away. What's worse than losing love? Losing it
when it is no one's fault, when there is no one to be angry at, or no one
to hate. You had to go take care of your grandfather, and since I know how
family is, I could not tell you not to go. I did say I did not want you to.
	We talked for a little while longer. You asked me if we should
break it off now, or keep it going right up to the end. Out of fear, I said
we should break it off. It was such a wrong decision. But my fear that
either you or I would find someone else in the between time made me say
it. It hurt so much. It still hurts.
	Then, we were supposed to have our last night together at the place
where we met. I wanted to spend the whole night with you, and make you
understand all the things I could not say. We were both so worried about
the other person that we did whatever we thought would make it easier on
them. "Oh, you'll find someone else, someone better," we both said. Great
consolence.
	Then you said something that hurt me beyond anything else. You said
you did not want to spend the rest of the night with me because it hurt too
much. I cheerfully said ok, but on the inside I was screaming. I wanted our
last night together to be just us, all night. Of course, I wanted to make
it as easy on you as I could, so I went to the dancefloor and danced out
all the words I could not say to you. I danced hard to block out my own
thoughts. I pretended like you were not dancing a few steps away. I wanted
to hurt you for that, and that made me so pissed at myself.
	You finally left. I went home. You had asked me to call you the
next day, but hey, since you did not want to spend the night together, why
should I call you? Right? The stupid things people do. I regret not calling
you because, now I have no way to get in touch with you.
	I spent a couple months lying to myself. Saying I did not hurt as
much as I did. Hell, it was like you were still there. I did not think
about you.
	Now, after I stopped diluding myself, I miss you more than I ever
thought I could. I keep wishing that at any moment you'll come walking up
my stairs. I dream of you at night, and I even imagine you in my arms at
times. I look at the rose you gave me when you first came to my place, and
I look at it longingly. I look at the bear you gave me, and realize I never
gave you anything. Maybe it was enough for you to have me, but, today, I
would give you everything just to have you back.
	I can not do anything about the mistakes I made in the past. Such
stupid things. I want to say "maybe he really did not love me", or "maybe
he was lying", or "maybe I did not love him", but the fact that these
thoughts hurt makes me know it could not be true. It would make it so much
easier if I could write my mistakes off as good things, but I know that is
not going to happen.
	So, instead, I am writing you this letter, and hoping someone out
there knows you. Hoping maybe, just maybe, you'll read it and respond. This
is a lot of hope for just one letter. And I'm sorry if some of you out
there have read this hoping to get off, but some people just need to get
some things off their chest.
	I love you Jason. If you're out there, and you still love me,
please get in touch.

SmTwnBoi@aol.com