To My Future Lover (MxM)

— Adrian —

I dare you to write a letter to your future lover.

This was what my life had become: writing a letter to an imaginary lover.

I huffed, as I meandered through the wooded patch behind my apartment complex, in a state of self-pity. And yet I had written the damn love letter to no one.

I’d recently moved to the area after a bad break-up – and because I was trying to get away from a problem that shouldn’t even be mine. My friends and colleagues encouraged me to go out and find myself a new man.

I was more fem gay, and I had a tendency to go for more masculine guys, though not too masculine. I once dated a guy who was so macho, it’d been too much. Now I was just hoping to find someone who’d just click with me, who’d get me, and who’d bare his soul to me and for me.

Was this letter going to bring me to Mister Perfect?

I kicked at a rock, feet scrunching on the fallen leaves, and looked down at the stupid stationery I had bought. I mean, it was cute.

‘Who the hell writes letters anymore?’

I laughed at myself internally.

We had all gotten drunk, and then started playing Truth or Dare. I took Dare.

‘I dare you to write a letter to your future lover, and then place it somewhere for some random guy to find.’

‘Are you fucking serious?’

After the jeers that I was going to chicken out, I declared: ‘I’ll do it.’ I even promised to buy proper letter paper too. My friends then all bunked at my place…to make sure I wouldn’t flake.

I didn’t. Because here I was, with the letter I’d written. Fuck it, not like it would garner anything aside from reputation and me proving I’m not…what? A wuss? Whatever.

While I lived in a predominantly French-speaking province, I lived in a predominantly English-speaking suburb of Montreal. Plus, I was Anglophone, a predominantly English speaker. Thus, my letter was in English.

I found a nice nook inside a tree. I tucked the envelope with my letter in the nook.

‘Here you go, little squirrels. Paper for your nests, or…whatever.’ They’d need it; it was November, after all.

I turned on my heels and left, not after taking selfies and filming myself walking away as proof. I was lucky I was not chaperoned – the others worked. I, on the other hand, had a few more days off.

— John —

Another day, another routine repeat, another boring ass, mundane, existential crisis. I was having them a lot these days. Maybe midlife did that when you were single. Most of my friends were married and had kids; some of those kids were already in college. Meanwhile, here I was, gay, single, and apparently unwanted by other men.

‘Am I that unlovable?’

I sighed. No one was going to answer that.

I strolled along the path I enjoyed and decided to take a different route from my usual. The new small path led me to a wooded area behind several houses and apartment buildings.

‘Well, this is nice.’

I paced myself – had to maintain a good rhythm at my age if I wanted to stay in shape.

Something caught my eye. Right there in a tree nook, an envelope. Fancy too, from the looks of it – it was a pastel aqua shade, with white polka dots.

I picked it up. Then realised, someone must’ve left it here for someone, and if I pried into their personal affairs…well, I’d be pissed if it were me.

And yet, my curiosity won over.

If some teen left it here for a friend…or maybe someone was having a secret affair. Just a small glimpse wouldn’t do any harm, right?

I delicately opened the envelope and took the letter out.

Whoever had written it had started off writing neatly, and then it seemed the pen had gone wild. I chuckled at that – someone was writing to their heart’s content.

‘Curious.’

To my future lover, the letter began, and my heart fluttered.

I found myself strolling down the path, clutching the letter near my chest, reading as though this was addressed to me.

To my future lover,

I want to get this right out there that this was a dare and I didn’t want to back out of it. You probably know how it is.

‘Oh? So that’s how it is. Lucky me.’ I appreciated my correspondent’s honesty.

So, how should I start this off?

At the sound of sounding like a kid, I am tall? Ish? I think I’m handsome, though my ex would tell you otherwise. He decided he’d had enough of me, his words, but that meant he wanted someone else. He’d had enough of me wanting commitment.

Shit, no one deserved to be discarded like that. ‘I want commitment too.’

So yeah, I like monogamy. I have blue eyes, dimples…regular dimples, not blue.

I chuckled. I loved how he nervously specified—

I caught myself. Was my penpal a man?

Grinning timidly and biting my lip, I continued.

My hair is kind of blond but it’s dark. Naturally has various shades.

Oh, that sounded gorgeous.

I’m gay.

Yes! He was a gay man.

I myself had always been a masculine gay man. I didn’t mind if my future lover was more fem or masc, as long as he was into me and we had chemistry.

About myself, uhm well… You know what, this is ridiculous. I’m 27, for freakin’ sake. I doubt anyone’s going to read this in the first place. I just want to find someone who gets me. Someone who loves me for me, and whose heart will trip over itself for me and about me. Is that too much to ask?

Definitely not.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m the problem. Sorry, this is supposed to be a love letter. Well, since I don’t know you, I can’t say you’re on my mind. I don’t wanna lie.

Again, the uncanny honesty had me blushing, and my heart was already tripping.

If someone actually reads this, I’m gonna feel embarrassed. Okay, listen, I might be in a strange place in my life right now, but maybe we can live this strangeness together.

I’d like to interlace my fingers with yours, hold you close, make crazy sexy love to you, and sit around talking silly and laughing silly all night until the sun comes up. And make crazy sexy love until the sun comes up.

The heat within me rose.

I swear, I’m not as sex-deprived as I sound. Well, maybe a bit.

I was full-on biting my lip. I stopped walking; my heart was thudding. I was falling in love with him already.

Kissing you sweetly and nubbing your earlobe,

Adrian

‘Adrian,’ I whispered, my tormenting woes suddenly forgotten and replaced with a sweet ache in my heart. ‘You’ve just made my day.’