Re: [postcard: gin & tonic]
[A different take on Hogarth, printed 8x11” and tucked in a brown envelope, along with several sheets of paper from a notepad.]
I think that the concept of anything so much greater than our own little existences is romantic. And whatever part we play that makes us beholden to the stars. Maybe that sounds trite, which would be just my sort of irony. I’ve never thought of myself as a romantic, and yet I seem to keep winding up with lovers who make me wax poetic.
I used to write letters to my mother, when I was younger. They would go on for pages and pages. She didn’t write me back very often. This feels quite different. I’m not sure if I’m a very good letter-writing partner, as it were. But I am trying my hand at the written equivalent of being a good listener.
The nature of their danger, as I’ve determined it, has been overwhelmingly removed from their need to be protected from those who would do them harm. That is to say, the danger was to my own heart, in loving them. I know, I know; I can handle the aforementioned viscera, but a little heartbreak has me diving into the nearest bottle. Were you a therapist, you might suggest I suffer from repressed abandonment issues. Lucky for me you’re no such therapist.
You see, now I know for certain I am lacking as a pen pal. I have difficulty organizing my thoughts on the page, so I understand where I might have lost you. The person I love, the one I nearly had cause to miss? They aren’t a lover, but a loved one. Family. They nearly died. And I have lost family before, but it was… very different.
The others I’ve mentioned, those have been lovers. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. Family, in a different sense. And some nights when I’m longing for the comfort of those familiar beds, I’m not even sure whose I would most like to seek out. I realize that might make me sound fickle, dear Gin. Some of them have left town, and others might not even be the people I once knew.
I am glad you have something that comforts you. We must find it where we can in this world.
Without judgement, Tonic
[On the back of the brown envelope, as an afterthought:] ’If you ever looked at me once with what I know is in you, I would be your slave.’ - How’s that one for romance, Gin?