My darling,
It's the middle of the night. I just woke up from a very strange dream.
We were sitting at a table. I have no idea where it was, and I guess it doesn't matter. I think it must have been some kind of sidewalk cafe. The table was very small, really just large enough to hold two cups of coffee and our two sets of elbows. We were sitting across from each other. You were wearing your green top, the one you have on in the picture you sent me. When I see you in my mind, you're wearing that top, which isn't surprising, since that's the only image of you I have. In some of my dreams (both day and night), you are naked, because one of us has taken that top off.
As you can imagine, I like those dreams. I like to think of you, naked in my arms, our passion building as we make love. I like to think of you, naked beside me, as we recover from the exertion of our sex. I like to think of you, naked, holding me as we share a tender kiss. I like to think of you, naked, quiet, a faint smile on your lips, cuddling me as you sleep.
We were sitting at that little cafe table, talking. It was the first time we had met face to face. For some reason, we had agreed when we planned this meeting that we would not touch each other, even to shake hands, until we had finished our first cup of coffee together.
We've always been truthful, from the first time we wrote to each other. There has always been trust, from our first awkward phone call. I've felt I could tell you anything, and you've told me much, too. We've shared, and as our relationship has grown, we've come to love each other. In a way, I've felt that love was inevitable between us, and I've not been disappointed.
At our table, we talked, we laughed, we swapped stories and opinions, we did all the fun things we do together on the phone. Remember how that started with us? We traded phone numbers in our e-mails, and then we called. We were acquaintances. We became friends. It wasn't long before we knew that we loved each other. It has only been a short time, you know, and yet it seems like we've loved each other all our lives.
We kept drinking our coffee. We were all alone, together, and every second was better than the one before. We could see each other. We could say anything we wanted to, and no one could hear us. No one interrupted us. No waitress came by to refill our cups, but they never got empty. After a while, we talked about that, wondering how that could be. We couldn't touch each other until we had finished our coffee -- that had been the plan. We had made an agreement, a promise to each other, so we couldn't touch. We've promised to always keep our promises, so all we could do was talk.
It was a beautiful time. We talked for hours, and I loved you for every word you said, but I was getting impatient for your touch. Frankly, I was getting sick of coffee, and you seemed to be, too. Regardless of how much we drank, we couldn't empty our cups. Did you ever have a frustration dream? One in which you couldn't do something important, no matter how hard you tried? That's what I felt. I was so frustrated by the situation, and there didn't seem to be anything I could do.
It took a while, but I finally got angry. I tried to hide my anger from you, but you saw it. You started to cry.
By now, I know that you know how I feel when I see a woman cry. It can be any woman, a little girl, an old woman on her deathbed, a complete stranger, or a close friend. I've told you about that before. I've told you how I feel that I have to fix things. I guess I have some sort of hero complex. I dream that knights in shining armor can be real, and I think I must become one when a woman is upset. It's been that way for as long as I can remember. Sometimes, I wind up looking foolish, I guess. Sometimes I feel like Don Quixote, tilting at windmills, in my case, thinking that I can dry a woman's tears. It's worth it, though, because sometimes, in some small way, I succeed. When I can watch a woman's face change from tears to smiles, I feel like a god.
You certainly know how I feel when you cry, because I love you. That misunderstanding with your friend that upset you so much -- I told you how I felt about that. I was prepared to walk to the ocean and swim across it, just to try to make your problem go away, just to fix things, just to dry your tears.