An Important Letter
An Important Letter
Hello honey,
I’m a bit of a coward. We both know that I don’t hold up all that well under certain kinds of pressure, and that still makes me feel bad sometimes even though you’ve told me it’s part of who I am. If I were saying this to your face I’d be tripping over my own words and making a fool of myself. Even writing this I’m messing it up. This is my sixth try at doing it right. I want it to be exactly right.
How long had you been coming into the library before that night? Three months? Six? I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I never thought all that much of you then. We didn’t really talk for more than a minute or two at a time. Never anything personal, just you asking if a book had come in or for a recommendation.
Was there a sign that I missed somewhere along the line? Even knowing what I do now I can’t be sure. You hid your feelings well; all smiles even though you were in such a dark place.
That night. I’m never going to forget it. The library was closed but I was still up, about to pull an all night cram session with my new book on the history of weaving techniques in decorative tapestries. Did you know that you can actually date one of those to within a decade just by looking at the type of stitching?
I had gotten up to go take a break and make myself a cup of tea when I heard something fall through the book drop. If I had been reading I probably would have ignored it until morning. Do you believe in fate? I don’t, it’s a completely irrational idea. At the same time, I’m still gobsmacked at how different everything would be now it I hadn’t picked just that moment to make tea.
I picked up the book with the intention of reshelving it while the kettle was boiling, when that little slip of paper fell out. My first thought was that you had torn a page and hoped I wouldn’t notice, but when I picked it up it was clear that it was a note.
I read what you wrote. I read about how unhappy you were. How hopeless you were and how you just wanted everything to be over. What you planned to do to yourself to make it all stop forever.
I was concerned. Who am I kidding, I freaked the buck out. I ran out of the library just in time to see you turn a corner a few streets away.
You probably weren’t expecting to get tackled from behind by a unicorn that night. Sorry again about the ankle. I’m also sorry about some of things I started screaming at you, loud enough that I probably woke half the town. I’m sorry I called you stupid, and selfish, and weak. You aren’t any of those things. What I absolutely am not sorry for is dragging you straight to the hospital that night over your objections. When I turned you over to the nurses and told them what had happened, you looked at me like I had betrayed some trust we shared, if only in your head. It would have been worth it even if you had never spoken to me again.
On a whim, though, I told you if you ever wanted somepony to talk to I’d buy you a cup of coffee.
They took you away and I went back to the library. I thought that was the end of it. A scary night with a satisfying ending. Until two weeks later you knocked on the library door, and took me up on that cup of coffee. We found a corner booth in the cafe and started to talk, for real, for the first time.
How much of that cup of coffee did I actually drink? Two sips? Three? I’m pretty sure I forgot it was even there after the first quarter of an hour. I found the wonderful and engaging pony who had been right under my nose the entire time. You were smart. You were funny. When you got up to use the restroom I might have taken the opportunity to confirm that your backside wasn’t so rough on the eyes either.
I don’t believe in love at first sight. It took me nearly a whole two hours to fall for you, after all.
I didn’t tell you that back then of course. You had been through a lot, and were only just starting to claw your way back from it. You needed help, professional help, and you were getting it. I just stayed close, ready to support you when you needed me. I saw you at your best and at your worst and I took heart as the former slowly but surely overcame the latter.
I kept that note, you know. The one you slipped into the book. I re-read it every once in a while and wonder how such an incredible, spectacular, self-evidently amazing pony could even think of doing such a thing. It reminds me how close I came to never getting to know you at all, and that I have to cherish every single moment I’m with you.
The day I finally asked you out was one of the most terrifying of my life. I went back and forth on whether I would tell you what I really felt. To be honest if you had told me that you only saw me as a friend I don’t know that I would have been able to be around you any more. That, of course, would probably have made you feel horrible. I put it off for two weeks with the excuse I was doing what was best for both of us, when really I was just chickening out.
Finally, I asked if you wanted to come with me on a picnic in the park which you immediately agreed to. So immediately that I figured you had no idea what I was really asking. So naturally I felt like I had to spell it out in excruciating detail. I still cringe when I remember how I actually used the phrase ‘I am attempting to court you by employing what I understand to be the expected social cues and customs.’ I know you’ve told me how adorable it is when I get carried away on those little tirades, but I appreciate the way you let me know it’s time to stop talking. The trick you discovered right that moment when you stepped over and kissed me.
We never did make it to the park, but at least we put the picnic blanket to good use.
The next few weeks are a little blurry in my head. Every time I saw you was a rush. Every new detail I learned about you, no matter how insignificant, was to be memorized and treasured. I began to trust you with me, with all of me. I told you all the things about myself that I’m ashamed of. The things I’m afraid of. You took it all in stride, even when I was crying in your arms. You love me, the real me, and not just some persona that I prop up to face the world. You know me more deeply, more intimately, than anypony else. Maybe even better than I know myself.
I began to wonder what you saw in me. How could a pony as fantastic as you want to be with a pony as weird and neurotic as me? I worried that someday I would wake up next to you and you would look at me as you suddenly came to your senses and realized I wasn’t worthy of you. Then you’d leave me and find some beautiful mare who actually deserved you. The idea, the expectation that that would be the only way this could ever end was soul crushing.
But you showed me how wrong I was. You loved me and showed me why I had been worth loving all along. Not only am I better pony for knowing you, I always was a better pony than I believed I was. In fact I may even be a little bit out of your league (Kidding! That was kidding!)
I love your smile. I love your laugh. I love the way you make me feel in the throes of passion or when we’re just lazing around doing nothing, but doing it together. I love the way you know that I prefer my toast cut diagonally rather than straight, and how I prefer putting ice cubes into a glass after pouring a drink rather than before. I love the fact that you are completely hopeless at trying to do laundry.
I’m a very greedy pony. I want an impossible amount from you. I want a piece of your soul and all of your heart. I want to have foals with you, to make you a part of my family. I want to keep learning all of your little quirks and secrets, and then just when I think I know them all for you to go ahead and surprise me anyway. It’s a lot to ask, and all I can offer in return is to spend the rest of my life with you.
I did something a little sneaky, and I apologize for the deception. Before I put this note somewhere I knew you would find it I slipped a spell onto it that would alert me when it was opened. If the new silent version of my teleport spell works like I hope it does, I’m standing right behind you as you read this.
I know you tell me I ask too many questions, but I hope you’ll indulge me and answer at least one more. Don’t worry, it’s multiple choice.
Will you marry me?