And No One Stopped Them | Part 19
This Is Why Hindsight Is Such a Big, Effing Jerk
If only I could go back and stop the slow-motion trainwreck that was about to derail my life for decades…
Richard and I wrote an insane number of letters back and forth. Big, fat ones, about three times a week, nothing but ImissyouIloveyouImissyouIloveyou and once in a while, maybe a bit of what we were actually doing other than missingyoulovingyou. I couldn’t wait to get home after school every day and check the mail, my fingers fumbling with excitement as I tore open his letters.
He wrote romantic poetry, called me, “Darling” and “Sweetheart.” I was over the moon, feeling loved and special for the first time in my life. Getting my fix every day or two kept me topped up and blissfully happy.
Of course, my parents weren’t too impressed with any of this, especially because of the age difference — a man five years older is a lot when a girl is just 15 — and the fact that this whole thing was obviously becoming pretty hot and heavy, not that I gave a rat’s ass what they thought.
In fact, it may have been part of the appeal.
And when Richard managed to come and see me for a few days a couple of months later, I was…
