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Dear Sir,
You said that you are in pain. I’m sorry to hear that, truly. I may not know what you’re going through exactly, but I dare to say that I’m not a stranger to pain.
I’ll be fully honest with you: I’m currently nursing a broken heart. It’s a long story, which might bore you a little, so I’ll refrain. But I’m lonely too. I am rather aching to talk to someone who might understand, who might see things from my point of view, a shoulder to cry on.
A short story that might amuse you, however, is how I came about your entry in the newspaper. I found the page on the front steps of my apartment building after coming back from my morning run. I had hoped to clear my head on the run, but all that was on my mind when I reached my apartment block was my recent romantic problems. I picked up the page and the first thing I saw was your ad, ‘visible but not seen’ in bold print. I read your words, over and over again, and found myself thinking about you, and what you could perhaps mean by your somewhat cryptic lines. I thought to myself that this must be fate. Maybe this was an opportunity for me to heal and move past the pain, while I could help you with the same. After all, what was the worst that could happen? The chance of this encounter ending up in a disaster as my recent misadventure seems comfortably low. I am willing to listen to you, and seek to understand you before passing judgment, and I would appreciate your reciprocation in return.
Now, maybe I have got this all wrong. I have never responded to a personal advertisement before. If this letter, and me, is not what you were hoping for, I sincerely apologize. But if you’re inclined to reply and share some of your burden, I’ll be looking forward to your letter.
Yours, Bilbo Baggins
P.S. Although I said I’ll be completely honest with you, I’m sure you realize that this is not my real name. It would have been a gas though to share a name with Master Burglar.
Dear Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End,
I’m thrilled to have received your letter.
This might come as a surprise, but I, myself, have never put out a personal ad, and therefore have no idea what I should expect in return. I said in the ad that I’m looking for someone who’s willing to listen and I appreciate your offer to do that. Thank you.
As you could tell from my somewhat corny words in the ad, I’ve been experiencing a lot of pain. Or better said, a lot more than usual. It gets unbearable sometimes, like the Monday night I decided to put this ad out. I needed to talk to someone who hadn’t made up their mind before they'd even heard my answer. Heck, before even asking the question. And in the spirit of complete honesty, someone who didn’t know me too well, who would be willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.
I think I better share some less embarrassing parts of my story with you. See, there is this guy, who is probably the best man who has ever walked on earth. Maybe even better than the best. The kind that puts the rest of us to shame for not being good enough, makes you feel like a snail or a tortoise for crying out loud. And maybe it was my own fault to fall for this guy, but how can you not? How can you push away what’s somehow the essence of all good in the world? Now you might think I’m exaggerating but I’m not. When I tell you my life has been filled with pain, I am not exaggerating.
And I would have been fine, just going about my own business, because I might be a lot of things but I am not generally stupid. I know I’m not good enough for him. But he had to go on and make me think I had a chance and then pull the rug right out from under my feet. I fell on my damn face. It hurts.
Well, isn’t that depressing? I’ve been told I’m a fun guy, and look how I’m moping all over the sheet.
I’m sorry.
I am going to stop and share something less miserable. This week, after a rather difficult meeting I was hiding in my office when my secretary rang and let me know a little person was insisting on seeing me. I thought she’s there to get her candy from the box I keep in my office for the employees’ kids, but she was actually there to personally thank me for her birthday gift. She had candy for me. Made me smile after a long, long time.
Better?
I hope I salvaged it enough for you to not regret engaging with me so far. Please write back and share some of your burden.
Yours Truly,
Han Solo
Dear Mr. Solo,
You never said your real name was not Han Solo, but I’m going to go ahead and assume that you are using an alias. Should I picture you looking like Han Solo though? I have a very special fondness for Mr. Ford.
I’m sorry to hear about your troubles. You are a generous man, describing this fella as ‘the best man who has ever walked on earth’, also for giving candy and birthday gifts to the children of your employees, and that leads me to believe that you could perhaps be exaggerating a little. If he was a perfect man as you seem to believe he is, would he lead you on and then let you down? That doesn’t sound too perfect to me. Besides, you deserve a chance to be heard and understood, even if you don’t think so yourself. If this fella was this good and he actually loved you he would have given you a second chance, whatever this is that you think you have done, don’t you agree?
You asked me to share some of my burden so I will, hoping not to make you more depressed than your own story. There is this fella, that I’ve had complicated emotions for over the years. He was my best friend, always there for me whenever I needed him. Reliable, ready to jump in and save the day any chance he got, and he was witty, always making me laugh at times I was truly down. I didn’t know it at first, but I think I was always in love with him. It took me many years to figure out my feelings, and more years to come to terms with the implications of loving a man, of dreaming to be intimate with him the way I had been before only with ladies. I admit that it took me a little too long before I finally decided to talk to him about it all.
I was a fool.
He is the smartest, most handsome fella out there. He has had many lovers who substantially outrank me in wealth and status, and here I was thinking that he will be willing to give me the time of the day. He was my friend, alright, but asking him to love me back? I was an old, damn fool.
Lately, I have been struggling. I wonder if I should take my motorcycle out on the road and ride into the sunset. Maybe I should go North, I have never been that way. But I have to admit, Mr. Solo, that your letter has lightened me up a little. I was giddy to find it in my P.O box. I appreciate you sharing some of your romantic difficulties with me, and maybe this makes me sound like a prick but knowing others have troubles of their own makes tolerating my own a bit easier. I also applaud your effort at drawing Han Solo’s blaster pistol next to your signature, I certainly enjoyed seeing that.
Write back soon.
Yours Sincerely,
Bilbo
P.S. I enclosed an actual illustration of Han Solo’s blaster pistol, in case you wanted to practice your drawing.
Dear Bilbo,
Thank you for writing back quickly.
I only had to go to the post office a couple of times and your letter was there on the third day. At the risk of sounding like a hopeless teenager, I have to admit that I had butterflies dancing the whole ride back to my office, and I was clutching the envelope between my fingers, so hard that it got pretty wrinkled. I could have read the letter in the cab, but I waited until I was back at my desk, with my door locked, my jacket off and my tie a little loosened up before I read the letter.
I do appreciate you finding Harrison Ford attractive, but the truth is that he is not remotely as handsome compared to yours truly. It’s not something I just say myself: my dark-haired, blue-eyed brilliance is a fact, admitted to by many people of both genders. Not that it matters how you look, just a fun fact I wanted to throw in there for your amusement.
I’m very sorry about how your love confession turned out. I understand that this guy is your friend and you’re also in love with him, but I believe that he is a bit of a jerk. Telling someone you’re too good to give them the time of the day is not what a friend does, even if they actually believe that to be the case, and by what you explained about him being there for you when you needed it, looks like he has already been giving you a lot of time in his days. So I say he is a jerk and a liar.
Thank you for believing that I deserve a second chance. I don’t agree with you, not really, but it’s delightful to hear. I have done things I’m not proud of, things I’m still paying for, and I’m trying my best to mend what I’ve broken. I don’t blame him for not wanting me, but I agree, it could objectively mean that he is not that perfect.
But we both know that hearts don’t work like that.
Even if your guy is a jerk and a liar, you’re still heartbroken. I’m sorry it had to be like this after all the mental turmoil you went through for him. Life is unfair. People suck.
I understand the urge to get away, to flee, to never come back, never see him again. Maybe we should both go up North. I’ve never been either. If we run out of gas or get lost, I bet we can find some ways to kill time and preserve body heat in the white wilderness. I don’t know if any of our problems will be solved when we come back, but we’ve at least seen the north, and each other, so it can’t be that bad of a plan.
Write back about your travel plans.
Yours,
Han
P.S. Your subtle dig at my drawing efforts was noticed, but forgiven, because your drawing is actually amazing. If I couldn’t smudge the charcoal of the pencil on the paper I would not have believed that this was a hand-drawn. Out of pettiness I’m enclosing some calculations and some design ideas for the pistol parts, you know, things that I’m actually good at.
P.P.S. I put your drawing under the glass that covers my desk. I look at it from time to time and smile.
Dear Han,
Thank you for your letter. It has gotten me thinking about a lot of different things, and I’m going to share my thoughts in no particular order:
You are being a sweetheart, insulting the guy I’m infatuated with, but I have to set the record right. He is not a liar, and he is not nasty. He genuinely cares about my well-being, I’m certain of that. There was a time when I had no one, nothing. He gave me a purpose, somewhere to belong. He gave me a home. He never said that he can’t give me the time of the day; that is my own conclusion. I never talked to him about my feelings. He has never said an unkind word to me. Sometimes I wished that he had. It might have made it easier to stop thinking about him.
You being more handsome than Mr. Ford is indeed intriguing. He is the second man I have ever found attractive, shall we say, physically, but that’s the good thing about lists, you can always move items up and down. Your universally-approved handsomeness is welcome on my list. I do have a preference for dark hair and blue eyes, not that looks really matter.
You have made me seriously consider taking a trip up North. It is going to be cold, but that’s the point, right? And although I barely know you, I’m finding myself amicable to your suggestive offers of killing time and sharing body heat in the white wilderness. I’d prefer to engage in such activities indoors though. I work on commission and will need to take time off when we’re on the road, but I have enough saved up to get us accommodation along the way. Nothing fancy, as I’m sure you are used to, with having your own office and your own secretary and a lot of employees, but decent enough which should be much better than freezing in the cold.
I wished you would agree with me on deserving another chance. We all have done things we are not proud of, and all we can do is learn from them, and try and do better. You are doing that and therefore I don’t approve of you being too hard on yourself. If you’re doing all you can to make amends, and this guy is still not happy to give you another chance, then I must admit that I dislike him, quite subjectively.
Love doesn’t work the way we want it to, I fully agree. But isn’t this the purpose of this correspondence? To heal from the wounds of the past and move forward? I believe that you deserve to be happy. If he doesn’t believe it, then maybe he doesn’t deserve you.
I have more thoughts in my head but I will have to get this letter posted in the next hour, hoping to have it delivered to your P.O. box as soon as possible. The idea of you going to the post office and finding your box empty is displeasing.
Write back soon.
Yours Passionately,
Bilbo
P.S. I admire the improvements you’ve made to the cooling unit beneath the firing barrel of Han’s DL-44. Simple but effective. Rather genius.
P.P.S I’m humbled by your kind words about my art. To show my appreciation, I’ve enclosed an illustration of you sitting at your desk with your tie loosened, and your sleeves rolled up, reading my letter. Please accept my apologies if I haven’t captured your world-renowned handsomeness; I haven’t met you in person yet.
Dear Bilbo,
I cannot express my astonishment.
It’s a little scary, actually, how close your illustration is to reality. When I asked my secretary to have it framed, she stared at it for a moment and then at me, and asked when I had anyone in my office to draw me without her knowing. I smiled and waved her off. I haven’t stopped smiling since this morning.
You also blew me away by recognizing what I had designed.
You continue to blow me away, generally, with your wise thoughts, and kind words, and subtle humor that never fails to lighten up my otherwise dark mood. I have to be thankful for the wind that blew the wayward page of The Village Voice right to your door. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.
Which makes it more painful, what I’m about to suggest: I think you should speak with your guy.
I can’t believe that you never told him about your feelings. If you care as much as I can imagine, don’t you think he deserves to know? What’s the worst outcome? He may not feel the same but if he is kind and cares about your well-being, he will let you down gently, don’t you think? It will be painful, without a doubt, but at least you will know.
Something tells me that it won’t be the case. I have a strong feeling that he will be thrilled to be with someone as kind and thoughtful as you, and frankly, it’s breaking my heart a little. But that’s the right thing to do for all of us. Because it either means that you will have what you desperately want, or I will know that by pursuing my plans to go up North and stay at the decent accommodation you’ve offered to provide, I’m not standing between you and the love of your life.
I don’t like this guy, for many reasons, but if this means that he won’t have to live through the heartbreak that I am right now, then that would make me happy. Maybe he also got a hint of your infatuation and is heartbroken that you never approached him with your advances. Let me tell you from experience that it’s awful.
You say that I deserve a second chance, that he doesn't deserve me if he doesn’t believe it. I will never know because he never said that. I knew that there was a time that he wanted to, but things happened, he learnt how actually damaged I am and he never said anything. You have a chance to do the right thing. I say go ahead and seize it.
Yours Sincerely,
Han
P.S. I tried to write something to make you smile the way you do in every letter, but I couldn’t. I just realized that I like you, beyond my attempts to take my mind off my miserable love life, and somehow that’s more saddenning than it should be. Please write back soon.
Dear Han,
He never said he doesn’t think you deserve a second chance? He never said anything and you assumed that he had changed his mind?
I’m frankly astounded.
You are a wise man.
You have given me brilliant advice over the past weeks, and your words about me seizing my chance at being happy are well-thought and well-put. And yet you yourself have never talked to this fella of yours about your own feelings?
This is beyond my understanding.
Over the past weeks and through a few words written on paper, you have made me happier than I have been in a long time. I can only imagine how lucky this guy would be if he gets to be happy with you for the rest of his life.
The idea of not ever getting to know you in person is least appealing; I truly wish to be able to see you. As embarrassing as it actually is, I have to admit that I have dreamed about your embrace. It was up North, in a wooden cabin in the middle of nowhere. Your hands were warm on my skin. I woke up with a full heart, feeling safe and it’s troubling to think that I will never feel that way with you.
But as you said, in another wise piece of advice you generously shared with me, this is the right thing to do. You have to speak with him.
Let us both take your advice and bite the bullet. In the words of a wise man: What’s the worst outcome? He may not feel the same but if he is kind and cares about your well-being, he will let you down gently, don’t you think? It will be painful, without a doubt, but at least you will know.
I am scared. I am terrified of the outcome. But we can’t hide. Sometimes, we have to jump into the battle even if we are afraid.
Yours in Courage,
Bilbo
Dear Bilbo,
This is a bizarre situation.
I want you. I don’t know you but I feel it, this pull, this invisible force that is drawing me to you. I’m flattered to know that you dreamed about me. I have had more than one dream about you, and neither are as wholesome as yours, so I’ll refrain from scandalizing you with details.
Let’s do this.
Let’s bite the damn bullet, and have this talk. There are a lot of terrible outcomes to be expected if we both go ahead, mind you, but the heck with it.
It’s the right thing to do.
I hope you’re kind enough to write me one last letter, if things go the way I’m hoping, and dreading, they will.
Yours Hopefully,
Han
P.S. I feel terrible for such a short unassuming letter. If we end up meeting in person, I promise to make it up to you, by at least telling you what has been happening in my dreams. I’d be open to enacting them as well. I’m pretty adventurous in that area, if you know what I mean.
My Dearest Tony,
Fate is a peculiar matter.
It was fate that brought you the lump of ice that my half-dead body was trapped in. The pull, the invisible force, the wind that brought your truest words to my door. It was all fate.
Now, I know that you don’t believe in what can’t be proven by science. I respect that. I, however, believe that there is a reason why we drift apart only to find each other time and time again.
I almost left your office. I looked into your eyes, at your smart, elegant clothing and the way your dark hair was styled perfectly, and I thought, it doesn’t matter what Han has asked me to do. That there was no way, no chance that this fabulous, extraordinary fella would even consider loving me back. I told you that I have to go, that I will contact you later, and I almost ignored how you were asking me to stay because you wanted to talk to me about something.
I almost left.
Then I saw it, the little drawing I made of Han Solo’s pistol, and for a moment, the world stopped to turn around. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t talk. That’s when you walked around your desk and grabbed my arm, realized what I was looking at, and somehow figured everything out in a fraction of a second.
It’s no joke. You are a genius after all.
Can you believe that this happened, really?
That you put an ad in the personal column of the newspaper to get over me and found me again? That I wrote to a stranger to heal from the wounds of loving you and the letters were all for you?
I know that you don’t believe in miracles.
But if this is not one, then what is it?
It’s been hours since I’ve had you in my arms, since I’ve felt your lips on my skin, that I have listened to your heart beating fast and slowing down. I still have no other answer for this incredible turn of events.
I love you, and I have you, against all odds.
It’s fate.
It was always meant to be.
Love,
Steven Grant Rogers
P.S. Now, I know that I'll be seeing you early in the morning, but writing to you has been a great means of clearing my head and putting my thoughts in order. Besides, I thought it’s a nice touch to write the last of these letters. It would be neat to put them all in a folder, and read them from time to time. To have proof that it was not all a dream. That it actually and truly happened the way it did.
P.P.S. I’m deeply sorry for the amount of pain I caused you. I was too busy with my own broken heart to notice what you were going through. I didn’t know that you had figured it out, that you knew I was going to ask Iron Man out on a date, and I had no idea that you thought I changed my mind after what happened in Molecule Man’s dome. I never changed my mind about loving you. I never thought Tony Stark is not good enough for Captain America. If possible, I loved you even more when I found out that Iron Man is indeed Mr. Tony Stark. I’m sorry that you thought otherwise. I’m deeply, truly sorry.
P.P.P.S. I know you said you forgive me, but those were a couple of emotional hours we spent at your office, and I just wanted to make sure I did it properly. To prove my good intentions and heartfelt remorse, I’m volunteering to enact the wild, adventurous acts of your intimate dreams. I’m intrigued by the few you shared with me today, and I’m looking forward to more, most eagerly.
P.P.P.P.S. I think Mr. Ford will remain the second most handsome man on my list. You, my love, will always be the first.