Hey. Your email has found me well...and I hope this reply also finds you in a state of well. I mean, you know, not like in a well, a literal well, but wellness. Sorry. Of all my ex-girlfriends, you're not even in the top five of ones I'd like to see fall into a well. This email is not starting off, uh, well. Oh my god. Sorry again.
I'm honestly not surprised to hear from you. I kind of figured that once we got past the initial awkwardness and pain of what happened, that we'd be able to be friends. We were always great at that, if nothing else. Maybe there was a stubborn part of me that wanted you to be the one to reach out first, or I would have said something earlier, but I did have faith that you'd come around. That we'd talk again. Make amends, as you put it.
When I think about us, I think about How I Met Your Mother. Sometimes I think I'm Ted and you were my Robin. I was some nerdy, pretentious guy and you were the spitfire who I knew was wrong for me but couldn't bring myself to say no to. There's a point in the show where Robin tells Ted: "If you have chemistry, you only need one other thing. Timing. But timing's a bitch."
And...that's us, I always thought. We had chemistry in spades; there was a pull to you I felt (and fought) for months. But what I wanted out of life, out of a relationship, just didn't match up with what you wanted. And maybe...I don't know. What we had, Wyatt, it was really special to me. And it meant a lot of different things. I enjoyed being your boyfriend while it lasted. The thing is, I knew you cared about me. It wasn't like I thought you were stringing me along. And I wish that I could have just accepted that instead of trying to push you towards something you weren't ready for. I think I just got so frustrated and nervous at the idea of you not being able to envision a serious future right off the bat that I figured it was better to throw in the towel than it was to keep dating and lose you later on. After six months, a year, after I was already in love with you instead of dancing on the edge of it.
Because that's the other side, isn't it? Maybe if I'd been patient with you, everything would have panned out the way I wanted. But maybe it wouldn't have. Maybe you would have panicked down the line or I would have gotten tired of waiting or we would have resented each other for trying to meet in the middle and still finding a huge gap. What I do know for sure is that we weren't going to be happy the way we were, even if we'd both tried harder to be accommodating. And honestly? That fucking sucks. I've wanted to apologize to you for the way I acted at the end for a while now, but...timing. There was Poland, and then the interview in DC and I've been so busy running back and forth that I just didn't know when or how to start talking to you again.
So here's the gist of it. I don't hate you, Wyatt. I could never hate you, and the last thing I want is you walking around thinking I might be capable of it or even dwelling on how I got hurt in this whole thing. Believe it or not, you're a good person too, Wyatt Earp. A fucking great person. I'm sorry for what happened and I know you are too, so maybe we can leave it at that and move forward. Because I miss you, too. I miss the bad jokes and the teasing about cephalopods and listing the various places and ways you're probably going to get murdered. You act like I was some great friend to you, just sitting down and listening to your problems, but it was a two-way street. You were always there for me, too. I miss that. And the honest-to-god fucking truth of the matter is that maybe we should have stayed just great friends, but I'm not sure I could ever go back to my birthday party and not kiss you, even knowing how it ended.
DC is strange and familiar all at once, in the way big cities are all somewhat the same. I don't have any friends or family here and I feel a little weird and alone, but...I think it'll be good for me, in the long run. I've always been so focused on taking care of my family or losing myself in a girlfriend that I'm not sure I know how to put myself first. So this is my experiment in being selfish, in learning what Christopher Kobelski really wants out of life. Plus, my new job is really fucking cool and it's impossible not to be stoked about that.
I hope you're honestly doing well, that you find what you're looking for. I hope Iceland was everything you wanted it to be (yeah, I still look at your Instagram). And most of all, I hope you're taking care of yourself, and that this isn't the last time we talk for another three months.
So don't be a stranger. You know I'm bad at Facebook, but email me. Text. If you're ever in DC, the offer stands for you, too. Coffee (not vomit, I hope) is on me.
I think it's good email etiquette to start this off by saying that I hope this finds you well (or something like that), but we both know I'm terrible with etiquette and I already get the feeling that you are well. Or at least I hope you are. It's been far too long anyway, and I'm sure you're still settling in DC. So. Anyway.
I just... Hm. I wanted to make amends, which now seems kind of silly and pointless, but I thought I'd at least give it a shot. I came across this ultra corny quote the other day that just said, "You miss all the shots you don't take," and for some reason, that's kind of stuck with me since then. So I figured if I reached out to you, I could at least say I did that—even if you hate me, even if you never respond, even if you immediately delete this email because you've got every right to. I just don't want to miss that shot simply by being too afraid to take it.
Mostly, though, I didn't want to bore you to death with motivational quotes and being a jackass. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry and that I honestly, truly never meant to hurt you. I'm scared, and I'm selfish, and I don't really know where I fit into things just yet. But you're not any of those things, Kobelski, and I hate knowing that my scared, selfish ass hurt someone like you. Because you're a fucking good person. Seriously. You're the best. I stood by it then, and I stand by it now. You're kind and endearingly awkward and genuine and compassionate and selfless in so many ways, and those were just a few of the reasons I was so drawn to you. But I know that doesn't make up for anything I did because, in the end, I still lost you. I lost my best friend, and that...that's something I'll never be able to live with.
For the past few months, I've been feeling a little lost, a little aimless, and I'm tired of feeling so...blue? Foggy, that's probably a better way to describe it. I hate feeling foggy, even though it's really my own damn fault because I got scared and then I got restless and then I quit a decent job so that I could wallow in my old bedroom back home and feel sorry for myself. And I thought I'd find myself by taking off for across the country, or maybe by coming home again. Something. But ultimately, I realized this wasn't something I could simply shake off or run away from, and I can finally admit that you were right about everything. I can't keep acting like this, and I don't want to. So I wanted to take a shot and apologize and Jesus Christ, I wanted to just tell you that you deserved nothing but my best, which was such a far cry from what I gave you.
Because you really don't deserve any of that bullshit. You were nothing but good to me, both before and after we started dating. You were the one person I could count on to talk to about anything under the Sun. Like when Jim moved (I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry), it was you I talked to. And when I was hungover or hungry or suffering during Lent, you were there with awful jokes and food and your company. When I felt down, you genuinely wanted to know why—and you genuinely wanted to make me feel better without bullshitting me in any way. You brought me Girl Scout cookies because I asked, and you relentlessly teased me for hating Thin Mints, and you got me a bow, and you shared a hammock and really awful liquor with me, and you braided my hair like Katniss, and you made ham, and you went along with a million stupid little things I wanted to do, and you got fucking vomited on with me (which is still the most disgusting thing to have ever happened to me). You were my best friend, Kobelski, and...I miss that. I miss all of those things. I miss your teasing and your sometimes goofy hair and your murder statistics and your fear of octopi. I mean, I still stumble upon articles and pictures, and I can't even begin to describe how much it sucks that I can't immediately send them to you so I can experience you freaking out over them.
They're all stilly things, I know, but I miss them anyway. Mostly, I miss your company. And I can't ever apologize enough for how I acted or the things I said, and if I could take them back? I would, in a heartbeat. But we both know I can't, so I guess this is the next best thing.
And I'm sorry for being disruptive because it's honestly not fair for me to write you this longwinded email, not after everything that's happened. It's another selfish move, one I know will undoubtedly make me feel better for sending it...but I'm doing it because I hope that one day you'll forgive me. I hope one day we might even be friends again—or, at the very least, grab a cup of coffee if you're ever in the neighborhood.
- Wyatt Kittenedy
I can't say I wasn't surprised to see your message in my inbox. I think i must have read it three times before it sank in, before that surprise faded into... something I can't quite put my finger on. A nostalgia, maybe? The way you described it was pretty spot on, I'm not gonna try and reinvent the wheel.
Regardless of how things ended between us, I never stopped wishing you well. I might have wondered what I could have done differently, or why it was okay to only be sleeping with me but not wanting to make anything official... but you never made me any promises so I can't claim that you broke them, either. I guess if you want to be friends, if you miss me... I'm right here. The only way you lost me was that I moved to the other side of the Hudson. Ball's in your court, Kennedy, and if you want to get together to catch up, just let me know the time and place.
In any case... Home feels like home, it's nice to be closer to family. Chubs is thinning out and starting to be more entertaining, walking and shit. Pretty sure I heard him say "Yim" the other day, but my sister says I'm imagining it. I started seeing someone, too-- she's pretty great, but doesn't like Star Wars. That might be a deal-breaker. (Kidding... maybe.)
Anyway. If you're serious about wanting to get together, let me know. Hope you're doing well, too.
Hey Jim. Long time no talk, huh?
I know it kind of comes out of left field, this email, but...I don't know. I wanted to talk to you—apologize to you, mostly, for acting the way I did and being the way I am. (I promise I'm not on a 12-step program or anything, and I'm not being forced to write you. I just thought it'd be nice.) And rather than call or text or send a telegram, I figured the best way was by email. You know, so you could absorb shit and not feel obligated to ever respond, in case you didn't want to. And maybe this email is mostly for me because it's not fair or right that I'd write you and disturb whatever you've got going on right now. So. I'm sorry for this, too.
But I miss you. Not in the kind of way I guess someone would miss an old lover, but I miss your friendship and your presence and everything that came along with it. I miss Chubs. I miss your fucking car and getting to ride in the passenger seat and just looking over at you and knowing that you were content in that very moment. I miss our walkie talkies. I miss knowing that I could talk to you about anything at any time because you were always there for me. You were my person. And I fucking miss you.
Sometimes, though, I don't feel like I deserve to miss you—not after what I did. I know it wasn't a big deal at the time and that we could have easily moved past the whole "we can be exclusive or not" conversation, and I'm fucking sorry that I freaked out and abandoned you instead. I don't have a lot of regrets in life, but that will always be one. Losing you, even as a friend.
I really do hope you've found what you've been looking for. I hope that home still feels like home, and I hope that the next time you're in the city, you give me a call because I would really, really, really love to see you and know how you've been. But if you don't, I completely understand. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry, that I miss you, that I'll always care about you.
Dear Wyatt Kennedy,
Your payment in the amount of $1,200.00 has been initiated and will be processed within 3 business days.
Resident Name: Wyatt Kennedy
Document Number: CYMF9F8FBA1
Payment Frequency: Immediate
Account Type: Bank
Please allow up to 3 days to confirm payment funds have cleared.
Please do not respond directly to this e-mail.
Hey, I saw your post on Craigslist about taking some pictures. Would you be interested in doing a family photoshoot next weekend? If so, what are your rates? Please let me know soon. Thank you.
Sent from my iPhone
Hey baby, sorry for the email. My phone died and it's taking forever to charge, and August is adamant that I send you this photo she drew right away. (I wonder where she gets her impatience from? Hm.) She says to tell you she's having a lot of fun in her art class this year. They painted flowers at some point, and when Aug brought home her painting, she said it reminded her of you so you should have them. Since it'll be a while before we see you, though, I thought you'd at least like a digital copy.I'll call you when my phone's on again, Wy. Love you.