My Dearest William,
I cannot play this cat and mouse game anymore. How long I have been biting my tongue while your elegance grows every passing day as your sheen becomes a stunning bruised banana color. I purchased this column to finally say my truth, William. I love you.
When we first met, I was already head over heels for you. Pulling my bags into my shabby South Campus apartment, I didn’t expect to see your chiseled body stretched out across the 1980’s ratty carpet, basking in the sunlight. That was the first time we made eye contact, and your splotchy figure made me feel things I have never felt before. Every time I’m near you, my heart races, I feel lightheaded, I experience muscle pain similar to that of fibromyalgia, and I have a constant metallic taste in my mouth. Some doctors would call it a mold allergy; I would call it true love.
But you are more than just a banging body, William, please know that. You are an intellectual, an artist, and a shoulder to lean on. Every day you make me consider new things about myself, such as “is it normal to have tinnitus 24/7,” “am I too young to be having weekly bouts of vertigo,” and “why am I losing so much hair?” You have forced me to develop a deeper understanding of myself, and because of that, I have become a better person.
Plus, you always help me initiate conversations with new people, which, as an introvert, I immensely appreciate. Every time somebody comes over, they notice you right away, and because they are so taken aback by your beauty, they storm up to me and ask me questions like “how did that get there,” “why haven’t you called someone to clean it yet,” and “this is why you haven’t been able to walk in a straight line for months.” I will go on for hours and hours talking about you. It’s impossible to not gush about you.
I do have suspicions that you may fancy me too, William, especially after our affair last week. You were giving me that “you’re mine” stare with your black, damp eyes, and I couldn’t resist. Now, I will not go into explicit detail, but you were wonderful. Never in my life have I felt that satisfied, and when I woke up the next morning, I was covered in goosebumps. Later that day, I went to Barnes, and they told me it was hives, not goosebumps that were covering my body from head to toe. However, I don’t believe in labels. Whether you call them love pimples or the worst case of hives Barnes had ever seen, they were the sign of real love.
To summarize this letter, William, I truly believe you are the one I’m supposed to be with. I understand this is a lot to handle, but I couldn’t hide behind the less attractive mold on my shower curtains any longer. William, I would love to take you on a date this week. We can hike at Green Lakes National Park, we can share a bowl of linguine at Pastabilities, and/or we can kick it back with the asbestos in the Physics Building. I don’t care where we go; I just want to be near you. I want to be your everything, William. I will give you all of my heart; I’ve already coughed up a lung for you. If you just let me in, I’m sure I can make you feel the same way I feel about you.
Love,
Sam Baylow