Authors: Maxwell Tibor
Dear Soldier Boy (8 page)
Chapter Fifteen
[email protected]
Sent 3/01/16
Dear Soldier Boy,
I don’t think you need any info on Mark. It’s like you’ve already done your recon on him. I mentioned we work together at the Pentagon, but I’m only ever there when we have a meeting. Which has been happening a lot. And no I’m not a stripper. I’ve never even been to a strip club for either gender.
After reading your letter, I’m assuming you’ve been plenty of times? Either way it doesn’t matter, but I wouldn’t want you going anymore if you were mine.
To answer Steven’s question, which is interesting, the weirdest thing I find attractive in a person? I don’t have a one thing. Each boyfriend has been totally different, in every category. My longest relationship was two years and a day. I say a day because we broke up one day after our “anniversary”. I broke it off. I was bored. I could see we were headed towards marriage, and Paul was not the guy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. We had plenty of good times and had even considered moving in together, but something was not right for me. I couldn’t picture myself with him for more than what it was. He took me for this incredibly romantic dinner for our “anniversary”, and I could see when the champagne was brought out what was about to follow. He was going to ask me to marry him. I asked him not to. He had the ring box in his hand. I saw it. But I couldn’t hear those words. I couldn’t imagine saying no to him, because I did care for him, but not enough to marry him. He nodded his head. He could see it too. Paul must have seen the thing in my eyes that I had yet to ever really say to him. I wasn’t in love with him. He has impeccable manners, so he put the box back in his coat pocket, and we continued on with our meal. We even had dessert. Chocolate molten lava cake. It was really good, and I never felt so disgusted with myself. I let this relationship go on for two years. I knew he wasn’t “the one”. But it was comfortable. Our friendship was enjoyable. Paul was a great dancer, and he could make me laugh at the silliest things. But something was always missing for me. Love.
Prior to Paul, I had a string of quasi-relationships. I’ve never gone all-in and really committed before. I never had to because I always had Julian for companionship. But there comes a time when you want to be touched, and for someone to want to kiss you, and so I broke away from hanging out on a daily basis with Julian. Which opened up my options for real dates with guys who were interested in being with me, like Paul.
I’ve dated since Paul, as I mentioned in my previous emails, but not anyone long enough to want to commit to them. I’ll go out on like, three dates, and I know. Nope. This isn’t the guy. Kissing is always important, because that says a lot about a person. If the kiss isn’t good, then there can’t be a relationship.
Which brings me to the current state.
Mark asked me if I wanted to get lunch the week after Valentine’s Day. We had just wrapped up another “fun” meeting, and I said sure. Everything about the beginning of our lunch was nice. Like I said before, he is entertaining. Anyway, he asked about you again. And if we were still in contact. At this point, it had been over a week since I had sent my email to you on Valentine’s Day, and I told him that. He then went on to tell me about things you encounter on a daily basis. I'd told him you were a Ranger, and that was it. I am not sure how, but he knew your last name and rank. He looked you up and where you are located. He didn’t tell me the exact location, because he said it was top secret, but he went on to give me a play-by-play of what your day is like and what you are experiencing.
Mark went into the grittiness of it. And then he went into the topic of the Afghani women that are allowed to visit the American bases, and how everyone is “entertained” by them. It was really gross. I have to say, I’m sure he was opting for a scare tactic, and it was working.
Visions of you and these women rolled through my head. The idea of you being with anyone else made me sick. I had to leave the lunch. I apologized and said I forgot about another meeting.
So, I left and I was sick. I actually threw up. Even more gross right? I didn’t know what to think about the idea of any of that. Sure, I know about the realities of war, but there is a difference between that and you being with someone else.
Mark must have sensed my fears, because he showed up at my house that night. He’d brought over some sushi. He came to apologize and to tell me he was trying to freak me out. That he was trying to make me forget about you and realize I shouldn’t be with you.
I asked him to leave. I told him I thought we could be friends, but that friends wouldn’t try and scare each other. Then he told me I was making a big mistake. He did want to be my friend, and friends try and help each other not mess up. He asked me what I really knew about you, and he said I was living in a fantasy world. That things you write to me aren’t necessarily real, and that when you get back in November, everything about you could be entirely different than what you are right now. Even if I had met you in person, he said, I might not recognize you. He said I should end it now, and I was wasting my time. He mentioned the whole timing is everything.
And he’s right; timing is something. Timing. I wrote a letter that you happened to get. My feelings are real, and I feel like yours are too, but how can I know for sure? What if I'm setting myself up for heartbreak?
What if you come back, and we have one special moment, and then you decide you’d rather move on to the next woman? I had these thoughts on my own.
Then, I get this email from you, where you talk about all of your partners. Now, I’m even more afraid. Is this true? I hate even asking you, but is that something you do? Matthew, are you with Afghani women while you are writing me?
Truly,
Vivian
Chapter Sixteen
From:
[email protected]
Sent: 3/2/16 23:17
To:
[email protected]
Vivian,
Are you kidding me right now? Did you
really just ask me if I’m having sex with women in Afghanistan?
Unbelievable.
Do you know anything about me? No, no you
don’t, if you can even ask me that. I have never—and would never—do that. Do
you know what would happen to an Afghani woman found screwing an American
soldier? She would be killed. By her own family. Honor killings are a real
thing. It's a shame Mark didn’t let you in on that reality of life in Afghanistan. I
would never put a woman in that position. I would never exploit anyone. The
fact that you think I can says everything.
So, Mark changed his tactics in “Operation
Bed Vivian”. Tell me, was his mission successful? Is that what this is about? If
you want to sleep with him, you don’t need to make up excuses.
I told you about my past because I wanted
to be honest with you. I believed all the bullshit about honesty being the foundation
of a healthy relationship. And I thought you could handle it. I was wrong on
both counts. Good that we both know where we stand now.
-Matthew
Chapter Seventeen
[email protected]
Sent 3/15/16
Dear Soldier Boy, March 15, (I’m sure you get the reference)
Et tu brute, and everything it encompasses.
To begin, I said that I hated to even ask, but I had to know. Yes, it was a low question, but I don’t think that makes me a horrible person for asking it. I know Mark’s tactics were to scare me off, and I was upset and bothered by the idea of you being with anyone. Period. But your email sent off a bunch of red flags. More flags than I have ever seen. Why is that? Why do your emails come packing with so much emotion and throw so much fear in front of me?
It's because of how much I care about you. I have never cared about anyone the way I care about you. Even as I write this, I’m worried if you are safe. I worry about that constantly. I second-guessed myself a zillion times before I sent that email. I didn’t want you to get any negative email from me, given your situation and what you already encounter. But I had to know. I had to read it from your words. I didn’t want to go off my own thoughts. As I’ve mentioned, I was with a guy for two years for no reason. I’m not the best at trusting myself right now. I’m trying, I am, but I want to make sure I’m right.
I trust you, however, not without question. I knew if I asked you, even though it was an insulting question to ask, that you would tell me the truth. Whether I wanted to hear it or not, the answer would be true. There was an inkling in my mind that, maybe because you mentioned “sex is sex”, you would not think anything of the idea of bedding random women in Afghanistan because it was only “sex”.
So I asked. Yes. I asked if you were having sex with other women. So shoot me. Wait…don’t. I know that’s what you do for a living. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have joked there. But seriously, you're appalled at me asking? I’m so awful for asking if it was possible? No, Mark did not mention that Afghani women would be killed for having sex with an American soldier, and it wouldn’t matter if he had. I needed to hear you say that you weren’t having sex with anyone else, period, because you only wanted to be with me. Maybe I should have asked that, but my query was in reference to your “sex is sex” statement.
Now, here is my turn to be bothered and upset, because you think I can’t handle the idea that you have been with other women before or that you can be honest. Guess what? You are wrong on both counts. I can handle that you have been with other women. I’m not naïve or a prude. But I can’t handle the idea of you being with anyone
now
. That is too much to bear. Seriously, I could not handle it. It would break me.
And in regards to honesty, that really is a low blow. I want you to be willing, and wanting, to tell me everything. Part of the wonderful thing about us is our honesty, the secrets we have shared with each other. Those are special moments I hold dear to my heart, and for you to say you don’t think you can continue doing that with me, it cuts deep, hard. My heart is filled with slashes and vinegar has been poured over me. I’m in pain. I can’t imagine a world where we don’t confide in each other.
You’re right; the foundation of a healthy relationship is honesty. And let’s be honest, Matthew, really honest. There are things that we won’t like about each other. I told you there would be, and now, I’m guessing what you don’t like about me is that I was insecure for a moment. I asked a question, and you're ready to throw in the towel over a question?
Maybe you can’t handle my insecurity. It’s too much to take, so you're done? Really? I thought you didn’t give up on things?
And further, here's another one for you. I'm bothered that you asked if I had sex with Mark. Do you really think I'd go from being all-in with you, and completely and utterly enamored by every thought regarding you, to jumping in bed with someone that was trying to take away the idea of you from me? Do you not have any respect for me?
I already said that I don’t just hook up and it had been a long time since I had been with anyone. By the way, it was Paul. Really, and that was almost a year ago. So I think I have a bit of willpower in the bedroom department.
Don’t get me wrong, when I was flirty with you about sex and being with you, that was all real. I do want to be with you in every single way imaginable. And I have a very vivid imagination. I have thought about being with you in every room in my house. I have thought about being with you in your tent. I’ve thought about being with you in Santorini, and I’ve thought about being with you in the picture I sent you (the puzzle one). But at no point have I thought about being with Mark.
I'll answer your question: no, I have not had sex with him, and no, I do not have any plans for that, either.
Now, here’s the part where I’m going to choose love over pride. My pride tells me not to respond to your email and to let you go at this point, but I’m not going to do that. I’m going to choose love.
I love you, Matthew, and that was before I received your package today. I know you sent it before I sent my HORRIBLE email to you, but it made me realize even more that timing does matter. But it only matters in a way that you choose to accept it.
Here’s how I choose to accept timing in this situation. I had already written the majority of this email, but I waited. I knew I wasn’t ready to click send. Something wasn’t right, something else needed to happen, and then something else needed to be said. And guess what Soldier Boy? I was right.
What happened? I got your package, and your gift, and promise of climbing a mountain with me, and finally, a kiss. So see, timing does matter. What if I had got this package prior to your email? Well, I would have loved receiving it, but the mail being slow held it up, and I received it after your email. That’s when I knew how even more perfectly it made sense. It was almost like your future self was sending out a lifeboat for this relationship because it is that, Matthew. This is real.
