Letters Never Sent- Vol 5

February 8, 1993

Dear Veronica,

Please stop calling me and just breathing on the phone.

I would have simply called you to tell you this, but then I would have been stuck on the phone with you for well over an hour while you just sat on the other end, not talking and refusing to hang up. I am scared that if I hang up you will go all fatal attraction on me, I knew we should not have seen that movie at the campus cinema, (even if it was only 50¢). It's a cautionary tale that I did not heed.

Let me say this as nicely as I can, in words that are sure not to provoke you further. You are probably a really swell gal, and someday make a fella really happy. You are clearly a very passionate person and for the right guy, that's great. I don't think I am that guy, I may be the opposite of passionate, like if you are loaded nachos with jalapenos and sizzling steak, I am saltine crackers with butter. Spicy food gives me heartburn.

The other day when I called to check my messages I got your voicemail, somehow you had rerouted my phone to your campus line, I’m not even sure how you did that. Last week when I said I couldn't see you because I had to go see my family, you called my mom and talked to her for an hour about dresses. Also, please stop sending me broken pieces of, what I assume is, the heart you made in ceramics. You're a very talented, tortured artist, that is no doubt, but the art is lost on me.

Further, I may or may not have commitment issues, stemming from a lifelong fear of being smothered in my sleep, that I only recently uncovered, (no pun intended), when you insisted that we both could fit in one sleeping bag and used me as a pillow. Also, I didn’t know that when we had sex it was the first and only time for you. I just thought it meant that you hadn't ever had that kind of sex before, not any kind, and thought that you were really into role playing. I understand now that this was for you, as you described immediately afterward like the Scarlet Macaws of South America who only mate for life. After doing some research I learned that they also regurgitated their food for their mates, which explains why I found a ziplock bag of what I think was once a peanut butter sandwich in my campus mail.

My professors won't excuse my not being in class because I have a 'crazy girlfriend', (though it did work for at least my Intro to Psych class). I haven’t been out of my room in days, for fear of running into you, (first time I have ever been happy about gender specific dorms). My roommate has been sneaking humdinger chicken back from the café all week, and let me tell you after the third day, it's not very humdingery.

I realize that Valentine’s Day is right around the corner and think it's best if we cut things off before then and to be clear, I don’t mean any actual cutting. I further realize that this may be the dumbest thing I have done in my college career, (surely my attempt at a spontaneous campus rave at 3 am by pulling all the fire alarms may rank higher), but I have to admit, that despite my overall fear of death or worse, something about your psycho-obsession is kind of sexy, so maybe, just maybe we can fool around one more time, if you promise to stop leaving dead things outside my window.

Yours, (not exactly)

Henry