Dear... My Darling Sarah

I know that I've treated you very poorly lately, and I'm so very sorry for that. I truly am. I can hear your retort now: "F**k you! Then why are you being so mean to me? I sent a very clear signal to you that hostilities were over, and I tried several times to make peace, but you couldn't stop being an asshole. Look at what you've done to us! F**k you!"

You're not wrong about any of that, but I'm acting this way only out of duty. I don't like any of this. I'd like to explain everything because you wouldn't talk to me about any of this, and I have no way to explain anything. I understand there can be good reasons for why you won't talk to me, but still. We don't know each other's minds well enough to make this work without talking. My biggest regret with you is that I didn't find a way to get you to open up to me. Maybe that wasn't possible, I don't know, but that's my regret for you.

I'm writing this letter a few days after the Citi Open in 2019. I just can't get away from you, can I? Whenever I see you, whether you see me or not, I always spend a few days trying to write the perfect letter to you, the one that will make you understand and forgive me. I know what I want to tell you, but I can't seem to find the words that will succinctly and accurately describe my thoughts. Hopefully this is the one.

The Citi Open, Monday, 7/29/2019. On the way there, Rob mentioned the name Sarah, and that he was going to introduce his business partner Hank to her. I wondered if he meant you, but I thought the chances of that were slim. Damned if he didn't. He meant you. When I first saw you there, really, whenever I see you, I have a very emotional reaction inside. My heart does a little flip in my chest, it skips a beat, and then it goes pitter-patter at the sight of you. I have to catch my breath, and at the Citi Open, I started to shake. Literally shake. I know that sounds like an infatuation, but trust me when I tell you it is more than that. I never want to reveal this reaction to you, so I don't even look at you. I try to hide it from everybody else too, but what I end up doing is shutting down, because our difficulties have a very powerful effect on me. I can't have fun when you're around any more, because you're always the one I want to have fun with, and we haven't had any fun in a long time. Anyway, sometime after seeing you there, I went off to brood. I needed some alone time to gather myself.

Later on, sure enough, that introduction was made and you and Kevin went for a walk. We saw Brian later, and he mentioned how you were walking around with your new boyfriend. I wondered what he saw that made him use that word, boyfriend. My fundamental problem is that I want to be your boyfriend, and I can't be that. You exploring the possibilities with anybody but me is exactly the sort of thing I don't want to hear or see. I don't want to know that about you, because I think that guy should be me. I assume that it happens and that it is inevitable, but I don't want a ringside seat. I take some comfort in believing that most guys won't appeal to you in that way, and that whoever it is that eventually captures your attention will probably be worthy of it. This guy Hank is actually a pretty nice guy, but I began to not to like him after Brian said that. My earlier sense was that he would not appeal to you, but after Brian sowed the seeds of doubt, I couldn't help but wonder (worry) about how you two were getting on. I am jealous of your attention. I want to be the one who monopolizes your time. Just like we were before all this.

I escaped into the stands to watch a match, and I was thinking about you and it occurred to me what a great date this could have been for us. I have a long list of activities (dates) that I want to do with you, but I have to admit, I didn't think of this. We could have stocked up on a couple bottles of the bubbly stuff, maybe also a bite to eat, and then made our way down to the seats I'd found. They were in the first row, right at the end, so that you would sit in the serve path on the ad side, behind and in line with the receiver. I was thinking that you'd have loved sitting there, and sure enough, just at that moment, a ball came flying just to the right of me. You have to pay attention in those seats. The view was fantastic, and I know that you would have loved it. I looked up to your balcony seats and I saw the two of you sitting up high under the canopy. It was the first time I laughed since I'd seen you that day. I thought "That fucking buffoon! He has no idea what to do next. She'd have such a better time if she was with me! F**K YOU, HANK! That's MY GIRL! You don't stand a f**king chance with her!" That's when I began to relax about the two of you. Still, it should have been me and you, not you and him, and still, I didn't want to see you two together, him trying, no matter the outcome. You're my girl. By the way, I know you're not my girl. I just want you to be, and for a brief time, it seemed like you were and that anything was possible. I really liked that brief time. So that's how I think of you.

Later on, I saw the two of you walking around. I could tell by your body language that there was no chemistry there. The way you walked with him was nothing like the way you walk when we were together. With me, you walk eagerly and quickly, happily, if I may, and you exude an enthusiasm that is both fun and contagious. You like being with me, I know that. You always wore a big smile too, one that I was proud and happy to be able to put on your face. With him, your face was indifferent, and your stride a little slow, a little more deliberate. There was space between you that didn't exist with us. What a waste, I thought. Nevertheless, I was jealous. I'd have loved to be next to you that day. I'm sorry that I couldn't be. We'd have had a blast, you and me. If, of course, things weren't all f**ked up between us, which they are. So, about that:

Remember our last kiss? It wasn't the kiss itself. I was already crazy about you, totally in love and I had been in love with you for a long time. The kiss wasn't earth-shattering, but that kiss made me believe in the idea of us. Before that happened, I knew you liked me, I've never had any doubts about that, not even at our worst moments. But I wasn't sure about how much you liked me or the specific nature of your affection for me. Were we just friends, or more than friends? I couldn't tell for sure, so I made no assumptions. That one kiss changed all that. After that, I suddenly believed in us. I thought we were a thing.

Then you started pulling away without a word. You wouldn't see me and you didn't explain why. I think we went for weeks without seeing each other one-on-one. I felt like I was losing you. I just wanted to talk about what happened between us, and I became increasingly frustrated by your avoidance. Our texts and emails during that time were not enough. By the time I wrote you that "emotional" note (I hate the way you call it that), I only had two fundamental questions for you. 1) Why did you start up with me? 2) Why did you stop? I knew why I started up with you. I was head over heels, from close to the beginning. I didn't want you to stop, but I understood why you might have to. Decency. You're a decent woman, and you have morals. That didn't bother me as much as the way you stopped. It was important to me to know if you liked me the way I liked you, or if something changed, or if it was about my marriage, or if there was something else going on. I needed to know. It was important for me to know what you felt for me, and why you pulled away. I just wanted to talk, to understand your point of view, but I also thought I needed your permission for that conversation first. Plus, I never saw you alone. It's hard to talk about that in a crowd. I dropped hints when I saw you, but you didn't pick them up. That's the only reason I wrote that note that started all this trouble. I never did get an answer to either question, and to this day, I don't know if I was in a brief romance with you, or if the romance was all in my head and this was something else. I thought I we had something real, but the way you acted, I just don't know. It's something I would really like to know about my life.

I never considered the possibility you'd turn your back and walk away from me like that without a word. When I saw how angry you were at me, I was devastated. I went off the deep end, you have no idea how bad it go. I was a complete train wreck, the effects of which persist to this day. I didn't know why you were angry with me, or what you thought I'd done to you. I didn't feel welcome to find out. I waited all summer for you to calm down, to reach out to me, to do something, anything. But you didn't, and I couldn't believe how bad things got over something so trivial.

I saw God's hand in this. It was like you were a gift given to me, and I was allowed to love you, but I wasn't allowed to touch. Because almost as soon as I did, it all went to hell, and He took you away from me. That's what this felt like to me, that I was no longer allowed to have you anywhere in my life, in any capacity, because I broke a promise I'd made a long time ago. But I don't know why. I don't know what He wanted me to learn.

After I saw you at the CH tournament, I swallowed my pride and I reached out to you, in an effort to get you back into my life. You know what? I've never done that before. If someone tells me to f**k off, I f**k off. People don't have to tell me twice. Except for you, you're the only one. You wrote back and told me to f**k off again. I was a little bit prepared for it the second time around, but I can't lie to you. Your note hurt me and you still wouldn't tell me why. You say you acted like a child? I knew that already, that's not helpful. But WHY did you act like a child and why won't you just talk to me? Our situation was clear and understood? I don't understand. It would have helped a lot if you could have articulated that situation to me. I could assume it was about my marriage, but it could've been something else too. I just wanted to know for sure. I needed it spelled out. Communication, Sarah. If you want to have a fight, then let's fight, in good faith. Don't just f**king shut down and lock me out. That doesn't work, unless you want to get rid of me. I have to assume that's what you were trying to do, it's just so hard for me to accept that this is what you really want. You didn't fight for me at all. I don't understand that. I thought we had something.

I wrote a bunch of different replies to your note, either cold, or terse, or angry or distant, or some combination of those things. But then I thought that there is going to be plenty of time for cold and distant, and that this was my last opportunity to tell you how I feel about you. I also figured that if you thought my last note was far too emotional, then this one would surely anger you even more, and you'd never talk to me again. I felt like I had nothing to lose, but at least you'd know how much I cared for you. So I sent the note I sent. That was a love note, by the way, in case you missed it. So is this letter, in case you've missed that. Anyway, after I sent it, I sat down and came up with code of conduct for being around you. Basically, I decided to leave you along, to never bother you again. I would be civil if the situation demanded it, but nothing else. I thought that I just needed some time to get over losing you. That part hasn't quite worked out yet. I also thought I'd have months before I had to see you again. But I just can't seem to get away from you, can I?

When I first heard you were coming to the college game with Rose and me, I couldn't believe my ears. Your note was very clear that things were at an end between you and me, and I'd only had a couple of weeks to process all of that. I wondered what you were up to, and how you had the balls to hitch a ride in my car without even telling me, so soon after telling me to f**k off in response to my last attempt at reconciliation. I didn't trust you, and my walls and my guards were up. I arrived at your house on high alert. During the ride there, I was fairly quiet, and I noticed that despite my determination to be distant and cold, I couldn't help but warm up to you and slip into that wonderfully natural and comfortable feeling I feel when I'm with you. I was angry with myself for that, but I could not resist what happens to me when I'm in your company. I did get to check one thing off my bucket list on that trip - I got to watch you sleep next to me, although I'd envisioned that experience in a completely different way. Still, it was a beautiful sight to behold. You looked like an angel. Thank you for that.

The next day, you spent most of it tending to your Jack, and so I didn't have to worry about how to act around you. When you came back, I deliberately avoided you because I still didn't know why you were there. I ignored you in the stadium, and when I returned from my second trip to the john, that's when we had that magical moment, our mutual exchange of meaningful glances, where it was just you and me, alone in the midst of the rest of the world. You wore a severe frown, and you were clearly unhappy with me. My first thoughts were spiteful. "How do you like being ignored? How do you like not being friends? Are you happy now?" The spoils of my revenge were very unrewarding. I immediately realized that I don't want to be the guy who makes you look or feel like that. I want to be the guy who makes you smile and laugh and look at me the way you used to look at me. My thoughts changed in an instant. Everything was forgiven, forever. I just can't stay angry with you. But I still had questions, very important questions. "Why are you looking at me like that, Sarah? Please tell me. Have you had a change of heart? Talk to me. Why won't you talk to me about all this? What do you want from me? Where do we go from here? Tell me." I have no idea what the look on my face was telling you.

I couldn't sleep that night. All I could see in the darkness was your sad face in my mind, and I had a million questions for you. I was confused, and I couldn't be sure what you wanted. I'd read you so wrong before, and it cost me dearly. I asked to talk to you twice, and that cost me dearly too. I wasn't about to ask again, and I was pretty sure that you were going to rely on your frownie face and your friendly demeanor to impart whatever message it was you wanted me to receive. Somehow I knew you would never actually talk to me about this. It was going to be all hints and behavior. I thought it might help to re-read your last note to me, so I got my phone, opened your note, and re-read it.

You complained that I was over-emotional, and I am, but I will take this opportunity to note that the look on your face was pretty emotional too. It's really not fair of you that you can express your feelings to me, yet punish me for expressing mine to you. In addition to that, I was trying to interpret your behavior, which lead me to second guess the tone and thrust of this most recent note to me. You'd predicted I'd do that, and you said that you didn't want to worry about how you acted around me. That was also unfair. We're taught to pay attention to actions, not words. It seemed like you wanted me to read your face and respond accordingly. But you'd also warned me not to do it. So in the absence of actual communication from you, what was I supposed to do?

I glanced over at Rose and for the very first time, I understood what a shitty husband I was being. It was probably 3 or 4 in the morning, and I'm up pining away over one of our neighbors, scheming about how I'm going to bring us back together again. I wanted to be your man, not hers. I wanted to be the one you hold hands with, who hugs you, kisses you, f**ks you, loves you, who does anything and everything with you. I wanted you to be the one snoring next to me, and I want your face to be the first thing I see every morning, but...

Let's not kid ourselves. There is only one path from here to there. Were you ever really going to choose to be the widow that stole Rose's husband? No. Even if you would, would I let you? I don't want to make your life worse. Our neighbors would think of you that way, regardless and I think the pressure of disapproval would break us, like this pressure has broken us. There's only one way you and I could be together, and not weather the judgment and approbation of the people we know. So until that changes, I can't have my honest shot.

Sitting there looking at her, I couldn't even think about wishing that. I'm shitty, but I'm not that shitty. You've been through it - you know. She doesn't deserve that from me. A long time ago, I felt the same way about her, and I asked God to give her to me. He did it, and she's been a good wife to me. I'm thinking that's why he took you away from me. Because deep down inside, I was asking Him for you without regard to what I'd asked of Him before.

I thought about what I should do. If Rose knew about us, what would she expect me to do? If I was married to you, what would you expect me to do? Or Dave, if he'd been caught up in something like this? You'd want us to shut it down, wouldn't you? Just end it, just like that, like you did with me, wouldn't you? You couldn't be too concerned about the other person's feelings. You have to do the hard thing sometimes, don't you? That's what I decided to do.

And that's it. It's not about you at all. It is all about how I feel about you and our situation, one that is clear and understood. Now I'm the one who walks around with a perpetual frownie face inside of me, because I met you, and I can't get that honest shot with you that I told you I wanted. Or maybe I will have that chance in the future. But I can't pin my hopes on it. I have to let go of you first, completely and without reservation. I have to abandon all hope, and to me, that means abandoning you completely. So that's what I've done, and why I've done it. It's not easy for me, not rewarding for me, there's nothing good about it, except that I'm trying to keep my promises to my wife. I'm so in love with you, you have no idea.

I thought I was done with this letter, the perfect letter that explains how I feel and why I'm avoiding you. But then I went over to Rob's house tonight. He was talking about you again, and he mentioned that you're dating some married guy. F**k. A married guy. You'll f**k some married guy, but you won't talk to me when I need you? I'm so f**king stupid, so f**king pathetic. OMG, that letter I wrote you before? You must have laughed your ass off at me. F**k. I can't say that I blame you. I totally get it. I guess it's really me who is the buffoon here, isn't it? I'm the f**king buffoon! Thank you for showing me, even if you didn't mean to. I was always so worried about what you thought of me, and now I can see myself the way you probably see me. F**k. Like a total f**king idiot. Now I understand what went wrong between us. I read this letter differently now, and I get it. All of it. It is perfect. Perfectly f**king pathetic. The light has turned on, brightly. A married guy who is interested in a widow is not supposed to fall in love with her. She's a mistress, a nice lay, a good time, somebody to hang out with, a welcome distraction, but she is not someone to fall in love with. If a man does that with his mistress, he f**ks everything up and he needs to be discarded, because he is going to be nothing but trouble and a source of drama. Just like me. I see it now. That's what you were talking about in your letter. This married guy of yours, he gets it. I didn't at the time. F**k. Now, I totally get it too, even if it is too late. We had a good thing going, and then I f**ked it all up, didn't I? That's why you wouldn't talk to me. That's why you were upset at all my emotion and timidity. That's why you got angry at me. That's why you told me to f**k off twice in a row, and I was too dense, too f**king stupid, too f**king pathetic to understand what was really going on. You know, I'm so f**king stupid that it's funny. Now your actions make all the sense in the world to me. I'm sorry, you're right, this is all my fault. I couldn't see it before, because I was laboring under my illusions about you. But I understand now. All my questions have been answered. F**k. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasted your time. But it was good while it lasted, right? Maybe it wasn't a waste of time. I don't know. It doesn't matter. F**k.

At least my instincts were right. Truthfully, if you'd have explained things to me, I wouldn't have participated any more. There's nothing that makes what you want worth it to me, there was nothing there for me with you. Leaving you alone was the right thing to do. I see it now.

Have fun, no hard feelings, no ill will. This is all my fault. Best of luck to you and goodbye.

From… Jordon