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Dear Brian,
Hello, old friend. Before I say - well, write - anything more, I should apologize. It’s been an age since I wrote you, I know, I’m the worst. But this time, the hiatus has been due to something truly wonderful.
You know how I feel I’m consistently cursed as far as romantic partners have gone? Well, I’ve found something I think may have obliterated the curse entirely. I met someone, and he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.
I’ll tell you how it began.
We met at the bar I work at. It was mid-afternoon on a weekday. I was the only employee there, since it was pretty early on a Thursday and the bar isn’t terribly popular. My boss - well, closer to my friend, now - let’s me have free run of the place when she isn’t there. Which is most of the time.
There were a few other customers, so I was just hanging behind the bar, cleaning a few glasses, when he walked in. This was definitely his first time here; he was looking around, almost surveying the place. Then he went over to the bar, and sat down right in front of me.
He ordered a drink - just a light beer, nothing much - and started to chat me up. It was simple stuff, you know? He said he had just moved here, and wanted to know about the city. I told him about good places to go - the bar, namely - and everything else.
He told me he was a musician. I could definitely see it, his voice is truly incredible. I hope you can hear it some time, Brian. I feel as though every human should be able to hear his voice at least once in their life.
Around then, one of my coworkers got there. So I let them take over, and Evan and I took a table in the corner. We drank our beers and we got to know each other. He made me laugh a lot. I made him laugh a lot too.
A few hours later, our table was so cluttered with empty bottles that it was leaning to one side. More customers were coming in, but we still weren’t even close to being busy. He looked over to the stage, to the guitar on the stand sitting there, neglected. My guitar, the one you helped me pick out so long ago. I never really played it, you know.
He asked if he could play it. I said yes. He left the table, still walking perfectly straight despite the beers, and went to the stage. I followed him, if only to be close to him. I was already drawn to him, to everything about him. I dragged a stool over for him. A few people were looking at us at this point, but most were ignoring us.
Then he sat down, and started to play. He played my guitar like it was a delicate thing, barely drifting his fingers over the strings yet still creating melodies that sounded so loud to me. He sang, quietly at first, then as his confidence grew, so did his volume.
I swear, I could see his heart shimmering through the six strings. He was so beautiful, playing my old guitar, singing the soft melody. I knew then, Brian, that he could be my savior. If only I could reach him.
He looked up to me, still strumming, and gave me a smile. He had stopped singing, waiting for me. I stood next to him, afraid to be close for fear of being burned by his aura of pure warmth. I loaned him my voice, desperate to make him happy.
He grinned, brighter than anything. He joined back, his singing strengthening my own. Our voices rose like the morning sun, lighting their path and bringing the feeling of a new day. A hush fell like dust over the room; I was acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on us, but looking at him made all the worry simply melt into the floor. My heart hummed like a bee’s wings, alive with the feeling of singing with him.
The song ended, and the customers erupted into applause, but no amount of it could match the fireworks going off in my heart. He grinned, setting the guitar down with the same delicate touch he played it with.
He said he had to leave, but that he’d be back soon. He winked at me - actually winked! - and then seemingly vanished before my very eyes.
And that’s how it began.
He came back quite soon after that, and then again, and then again. We’ve started a true relationship, and I’m very happy, Brian.
Of course, you know how I can be. Sometimes, I can let my anger get the best of me. Sometimes, I can’t help but biting the hand that’s feeding me love and affection. You’ve seen me at my lowest points. I can truly be my own worst enemy.
But maybe he will never have to see that side of me. Without even knowing it, he’s been helping me get better. He’s just always so happy, so carefree. It’s infectious. I’ve been working very hard on trying to better myself, for nothing more than I just don’t want to lose him.
If I can change those bad things about myself, I can picture an ending, as clear as I can picture his face, an ending where he and I are truly happy together.
I truly think this is the one, Brian. I think he is my one.
But that’s enough about me. How are you, my friend?
Warmest regards,
Tyler