Letter to Mr. Big

(Parenthetical subtitle: Saying goodbye to your first love.)

Hello, Mr. Big,

Why do you torture me like this?

You called me again last night. What has it been this time, a month? You were just calling to wish me a "Happy New Year." And when I didn't have much to say, you did what you always do:

"You're not very talkative tonight. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don't have anything to say."

"Oh. It's just unusual, that's all. My girl always has a million things to say."

Well, yes, that much is true. I do usually have a million things to say. So do you, you know. Usually, what you have to say is something along the lines of, "You know I'm going to marry you one day."

How long have you been saying that, exactly? It's been so long, I think I've lost track of just how many times we've had this same conversation. It always ends up the same.

You want to marry me one day.

Do you really believe that? If you did, would you have done something about it already? Are you just biding your time, waiting until you've had all the fun you possibly can before taking the leap of faith that we've talked about so often? Or do you tell me that, thinking that it is what I want to hear, wishing perhaps that it is what you want to hear, too. Knowing it isn't true.

I was going to "break up with you" tonight, you know. A few weeks ago, after your monthly calll, I wrote it all down. I had it all planned out. The last monthly call call was the final straw. Another round of you saying that you still love me, that you want to marry me and have babies with me, that you want to start now and take me out. Do you remember that conversation, Mr. Big?

Do you remember how I told you it wasn't true, that it wouldn't happen and that you didn't really want to take me on a date? Do you remember how I told you that I just don't believe you? Do you remember how you said you'd call me to set it up, that I'd see that you're serious (this time, at least)?

And then you call today. To check up on "your girl" to see how she's doing. You burst my first-date giddiness. As I saw your number on my called ID, I wondered if I should answer. The words that I had written down and practiced and planned froze in my throat. It was the first "hey sweetheart" that had me holding back. You're the only one who can call me that, without me thinking it sounds wrong. A single, simple word can change so many things so quickly.

And though we talked for a while, I didn't say any of those words that I had thought about so closely. The words just didn't come to me. I found that I didn't have a million things to say. I found I didn't have anything to say at all.

Yet somehow, in the end, I had one word. It sounded cold and raw coming from my mouth, and I hoped that you'd read between the lines, notice that I didn't have anything to say to you anymore. Even as I said it and hoped you'd read between the lines, I wondered if it even meant it. On a sigh of defeat and resignation that I didn't say it sooner or with enough conviction I spoke the words I've tried so often to say:

Goodbye, Mr. Big.

Deep down in my heart, I believe in soulmates. I sometimes even believe that you are mine. But to protect the heart that you've never been able to hold gently enough, I had to say it. I had to do it for me. And if it is meant to be, it will. Afterall, we've always said that we're convinced that we're eachother's great loves because if we weren't, we would move into eachother's lives with such ease, or out with such difficulty.