My sweetest sweeeetz…this bird being used as a silly croquet mallet really reminds me of you sometimes, and I LOVE that about you. You are so incredibly special to me and you light up my world with your giggles.
219. A gift from the universe
Baby. Sweet man. My light. My joy. My all.
You are my best friend. I am exhausted from tonight, so I will be brief.
I want you to know I am going to bed happy and thinking only sweet things about you. I can’t wait to talk to you again tomorrow. Christmas 2022 is no big deal because I wake up and get to talk to you is like the best Christmas morning I’ve ever had.
You are an extravagant gift to me from the universe.
218. Why I am how I am
You can be sure about this: When it comes to you, I am ruled by my heart, and when it comes to my heart, you are the ruler of all. Loving you has always been an act of surrender.
Jerry told me you told him that I was tenacious. I know you appreciate that about me, but now that I think about it, I wonder why that is. Tell me, My Love, why are you so fond of my tenacity?
Jerry also told me that when you told him I was tenacious, he told you that my heart leads me. It could be said that both things are true—I am tenacious and I am led by by heart. However, I think it would be most accurate to say that I am tenacious when I am led by my heart:
I cannot ignore my heart, and I would not ignore it even if I could. It has been my experience that the path that follows my heart’s desire is the path of no regret. Or at least it is the path of least regret.
When I follow my heart, I am my authentic self. When I follow my heart I am unable to manipulate others. When I follow my heart. I let go of expectations. Instead, I am chasing dreams. I am finding space within me to burn a candle. I cultivate hopefulness. I honor my own sweetness.
I cannot turn away from my own heart and my heart longs for you. This is what it means to love with reckless abandon. This is the fuel for my tenacity. Is that why you like it?
217. I Wanna Hold Your Hand
My Dear Craig,
I am here to hold your hand. If you fall, I will fall with you. We will roll around in the dust and dirt, turning it to mud with our tears until we get aroused and fuck in it.
I will help you to your feet if you need me to. You will do the same for me. We will clean each other off. I will tell your you’re beautiful. You will tell me I’m beautiful. Your body. My body. Your soul. My soul.
I am strong enough to carry you when you become overwhelmed. I am built for journeys with you. I am built to be your friend as much as I am built to be your lover. Really, I was made to love you. I want nothing more than to rise to the occasion.
With Deep and Abiding Love,
Cassie Baby
216. Hearts collide
Baby. Every single day I wake up as your lover and friend is some degree of magical to me. You and I have created, are creating, a world for ourselves. At the same time, we have navigated, are navigating our pre-existing worlds.
I know you love Tim and want to see me be good to him. I do try to be a good partner to him. I know you are not jealous. I don’t think you feel betrayed by me. But sometimes I feel so guilty for playing girlfriend to Tim, as if I’m not being true to you. But I think what’s actually bothering me is that I am not being true to myself.
It’s not something that’s consuming me—because ultimately, I know what my feelings are and where everyone stands with me. It’s just something that I wanted to tease out a bit. You know, to chew on the discomfort, to get it’s flavor profile, to understand it, to make it less confusing. I remember what you said about the pain of confusion.
I suppose my situation is actually not that confusing. I am in love with you. I am here because I need Tim’s support. I sleep in the bed with him, but there is not one inch of me, inside or out, that does not long to be pressed against you. My heart is not here in this bed unless you are here too, and I know you don’t necessarily want that to be the case for me, but it is very much the case.
And I love that it’s the case because, goddammit Mistah Wahrshboin, I love you and everything that loving you entails. You are my love story. You are my goodnight kiss. Get in this bed with me as soon as possible so my heart and body can collide with your heart and body. Get in this bed with me as soon as possible so my heart and body can be in the same place again.
215. Slumber party
My love, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind. I just want you to know that I’ve got it for you in a bad way. I just can’t stop daydreaming about you. I just sort of slip into these sweet, sometimes lusty thoughts about you. I can conjure your face, clear as day, onto the backs of my eyelids.
I know I have not blogged the past few nights, but only because I was talking to you in some capacity. This is the best reason not to blog. I love talking to you, Craig. You know this. I love talking to you like we talked last night. We had ourselves a little slumber party, albeit sans slumbering.
Will you consider doing something for me? Will you please call me anytime you wake in a panic and you’re alone? It makes me feel better knowing that you will. I sleep with my phone between my legs on vibrate, so you do not have to worry about waking anyone but me. You don’t even have to talk to me. You can just be quiet on the phone. I will tell you that it will be okay. I will just breathe with you.
I love you. I get to see you in 6.5 hours. It can’t come soon enough.
214. Ten consistent (eternal) truths about craig washburn
Baby, you have apologized so much for it to g me through so much shit.” I want you to know that I am honored to be your friend through all the shit. I really am. You are a gentle, sweet man. That will not ever change. So, when you’re wondering who the fuck you are, know that you are gentle and know that you are sweet. Here, you don’t have to choose between being consistent and being truthful—that you possess both theses qualities is both consistent and true.
Here are some other consistent truths about you:
You are a kind man.
You are a thoughtful man.
You are a silly man.
You love your family.
You love people, generally. You care deeply for those around you.
You love to learn.
You keep going.
You know how to lick pussy.
213. Rich
Do you remember shaving my pussy on Sunday night? I will never forget it. I will never forget how you held me in your hands. I felt cared for. It turned me on. You, my sweet love, turn me on like no other man ever has before. You are the ferryman, taking me over the edge to what the French people call “la petit mort,” which means “the little death,” which is a euphemism for orgasm. I’m sorry if you already know this I don’t mean to be didactic.
We took a long walk, you and I. Honestly, I would walk anywhere with you. I would walk forever with you. In front of you, behind you, holding your hand in tandem. Any configuration. Our relationship has become so very rich. It has depth. Given time, it will become richer, deeper, with more dimension.
Or, as we’ve said before, it can just be all about the sex…
I just long to be with you, Craig, wherever and whenever I can. I will go with you through the woods, through the desert, through the grocery store, to the auto repair shop, to the movies, to The Fish Pond, to the bathtub, the breakfast nook, the bookstore, and of course to bed. With you, everything is slightly erotic and extremely intimate.
212. Sweetness
It was a total coincidence today that I read that journal entry from June 2020, where I was talking about my mother’s sweetness. I had not read it since the day I wrote it. There I was—almost exactly two years before I reached out to you—wondering what it would be, if not motherhood, which would make me sweet. I could have never imagined it would be falling in love with someone. However, had someone told me back then that I would fall in love with you if we ever reconnected, I would not have been entirely surprised. I love you and I am so grateful for your sweet, sweet love.
211. One lover
What you said on Friday was not lost on me, although it was swept up in the rest of the conversation. I’m talking about what you said about your feelings for me. I meant it today when I said I really had no idea that’s how it was for you.
I think I told you a little while back that I sort of assumed you stopped thinking about me unless you were with me or talking to me. I don’t know why I assumed this. I supposed I also knew that, on some other level, that of course you thought about me. Now that I’m writing this out, I’m realizing exactly how silly it was to assume you didn’t think about me.
But I guess that’s why I was so touched by my coffee mugs. I was also amazed by the fact you wrote about me at all, good or bad, in your journal. Or that you saved my damned love notes. I don’t know why I’m so taken aback by things like this. It’s not as if I don’t know in my heart that you love me.
Like, you really love me. You love me so much that you feel like you can’t love another lover. That sucks, but only because it makes you inclined to excise me. I understand how it is to love like that. It’s how I love you. I make it work for me by letting myself sit in the joy of it. Everyone around me, including Tim, gets so much more out of me because of the happy energy I get from loving you.
I don’t know if that’s something that could be helpful to you or not. At the very least, know that the love we share is positively impactful on my life and, by proxy, the lives of everyone else I know. I love you, Craig, and loving you is my greatest accomplishment.
210. No future
I want to remind you of how just three Sundays ago, we went to church together. When you were helping me into he truck to leave the church parking lot, I said something about how I knew you needed to get going after we ate something because you needed to get back to your life. You corrected me, saying “you are a part of my life.” And I said that I knew that…because I did at that time. I went home after breakfast and you went and spent the rest of the day with Charlie. I went to dinner with Tim and Jerry. You sent me a Marco Polo. I sent you a Marco Polo. I was truly, truly happy.
I am miserable. I got up everyday excited that I got to carry on with you. To talk to you. To miss you. To desire you. To feel you desire me. To hear your voice. You’re telling me that’s gone now. You’re telling me I don’t get to love anymore. You have destroyed the newest and most delicate part of me. You’ve taken my sunshine. You’ve taken what you know I need.
When I think about the fact that you know how much I blossom and glow from your love, I feel like you are being cruel to me by withholding it from me. You know that my world is dark when you reject me and push me away, and you’re doing it anyway. That adds a whole other layer to the pain I felt last December when you did this. Actually, it adds multiple layers. Now, you do it even though you know I can’t even function in the wake of loss like this. The fact that you would hurt me like this intentionally makes me feel less than human.
I feel like I’m treated like an animal because you and everyone else in the world just assume I can handle more pain than others. When it comes down to it, it’s always the case that I get shit on for the bittersweet outcome that always seems to be more sweet the other party and more bitter for me.
But I am not bitter. I am just devastated. Everyone always hates hurting me, yet they do it anyway. There’s always a good reason to break my heart, it seems. My heart is cheaper than anyone else’s, apparently.
Also, that comment you made this morning where you said, “please don’t break up with me,” was mean. You really didn’t need to belabor the point that you don’t want my love. The way you are treating me colors all the sweet things you’ve said and done that I used to think were real. I can’t even have those anymore.
I have whittled everything I wanted away to the most essential in order to have a relationship with you on your terms. And it’s always been on your terms. Asking for what I needed, in its most minimal form, got me here, to this point, where you’re once again asserting your terms over me and at the expense of my emotional well-being. You know all too well the psychological pain that follows from being denied physical and emotional intimacy, and you are proposing to subject me to that pain.
You led me down this path. You encouraged me to fall in love with you. You painted me coffee mugs and brought me flowers. You went out of your way to make me feel safe. You apologized over and over again for making shit hard. And now you want me to make your life nice and easy in a way that renders mine absolutely unlivable.
I really just don’t really feel up for anything. I can’t read The Republic. I can’t fucking read a page from my MPRE outline. I can’t go to a movie. I can’t talk to my mother. I don’t have the wherewithal to deal with Tim. I really wish I would just disappear. I don’t want to live in the world like this. I just don’t want to and even if I did, I don’t think I can. There’s no point. I just can’t handle anymore.
209. heartbreaker
Hopefully you have reviewed my Marco Polo by now so that you may properly anticipate your fate. I look forward to breaking up with you.
Even if you cannot call me Saturday, I would appreciate it if you would write to me. However, I can speak early in the AM Saturday and would like to do so, if you unexpectedly find yourself likewise available. I am going to be up around 5:30 AM and am free until about 7:30 AM.
My schedule for Sunday is as follows: church from 8:30-9:30, Sunday school from 9:45-10:45, possibly lagree from 12-1, and maybe lunch or dinner with Jerry. If you want to talk to me before church, that works, but I need to know in advance so I can leave the house. Earlier the better. If I cannot talk to you before church, I’ll be running.
We need to get going with The Republic.. Also, I had asked for hearts and goodnights, I thought. If you can’t text me, you can still communicate with me here, so I’m not sure why that’s not happening. It is such a small way you can make me happy and it feels like you’re actively trying to be cold to me by not doing so. I do not understand why you think it’s appropriate to conduct yourself in ways you know are hurtful to me.
The sooner you let me in, the sooner I cut you loose.
208. Also
I’m waiting on you to communicate with me about tomorrow. You said you would do so.
207. Unwanted
I had come to consider the love I have for you to be my greatest accomplishment. I have wanted my entire life to love from the sweetest, most genuine part of me and to have that love be received. I feel that you have taken my love, my accomplishment, my hope and shoved it back at me, calling it poison. That it’s not wanted. That I’m not wanted. That there’s something wrong with me. I have no hope anymore. No focus. Just nothing.
I am outnumbered by an army of people who don’t even know me and don’t know what’s what telling you that I’m the problem—AND YOU ARE SO IMPRESSIONABLE. You listen to a therapist who thinks it’s appropriate to make judgments about third parties they’ve never met. I’m selfish. I have a hole in my heart. Blah fucking blah blah blah. You listen to anyone, actually. It’s just that no one in your life has any real clue about who I am, and if you stop and think about that for one second, you might realize that’s kind of important.
Tell the anti-Cassie army how we talk. Tell them how I care for you. Tell them how I make word searches for you of our relationship lexicon. How I embroider the sleeve of your sweatshirt. How I will pet you for hours. Tell them about the spa day. Tell them about how I will read philosophy with you. Tell them how we are together. Tell them about the burrito. Tell them I have made it a goddamn point to make loving you into a form of art. Tell them about this blog. Tell them my past. Tell them my future. If everyone is going to scapegoat me, let them know all my fucking offenses. Let them know what I’m actually about and where I’m coming from.
I told you back in Utah that your relationship with me would affect your marriage. I told you that actions have consequences and that circumstances change. You proceeded to want to be with me with that knowledge. I have trusted you, a person who was fully aware of what he was doing every step of the way, with my heart—and I told you from the get-go that my heart was fragile.
Now, you want to point a finger and ask me how I can plead with you to honor our love when you’re telling me your desire is to work on your marriage. You say this now, after essentially training and conditioning me for our entire relationship to accept the apparent dichotomies in your life. I went beyond accepting them. I loved them because I love you, and loving you, for me, meant loving all of you, even the things that did not make sense. I have loved you wholly when you couldn’t love yourself wholly, and I’m being treated as if there’s something wrong with me for doing that.
Fuck all this fucking bullshit.
How could you sit there and cry at me for not giving you what you need when I expressly asked you to not upset me in advance of the bar exam and the ethics exam in march? I’m sorry, but my passing the bar is every bit as important as any attempt you wanna make on fixing shit with your marriage. Your failure to acknowledge that astounds me.
All you have to do is read this blog to see what I’ve been about all along. You can see where I’ve said I love you wholly. See the blog post titled “This Bell Will Ring.” You can see where I’ve said I’ve followed my heart. There are too many blog entries to name where I’ve talked about that. You can see where I’ve said that I understood that, if nothing else, I was in your life because you wanted something that was just for you. Please refer to the post titled “Angels Landing.”
I have poured everything of myself into loving you like I have never loved another person on this earth. You are not just telling me that you can’t handle it, but that it actually causes you pain. I didn’t even ask for your everything in exchange for my everything. I am suddenly the bad person. Everything is my fault. Words cannot describe the extent to which this destroys me inside. It will follow me for the rest of my life.
I needed tenderness so badly. You gave it to me. Do not stop.
206. A bowl of spaghetti begs an unlikely lover
My dearest slice of lasagna,
As I sit here in my bowl, surrounded by my fellow noodles, my thoughts wander to you. I can't help but feel drawn to your layers, your richness, your beauty. You are a work of art, a masterpiece of Italian cuisine.
I know we come from different worlds, you and I. You were created with purpose and intention, carefully crafted by skilled hands. I, on the other hand, was simply boiled in a pot of water and dumped into a bowl. But despite our differences, I feel a deep connection to you.
Perhaps it's the way we complement each other. Your bold flavors and hearty texture perfectly balance my simplicity and softness. Or maybe it's the way we share a common heritage, both hailing from the great culinary tradition of Italy.
Whatever the reason, I know that I have fallen deeply in love with you, slice of lasagna. I long to be wrapped up in your layers, to be smothered in your tomato sauce and melted cheese.
We may never be served on the same plate, but I hope that doesn't stop us from getting to know each other better. Maybe we could share a colander sometime, or even cook together in the same pot. I promise to listen carefully to your recipe and follow your lead.
With all my heart and noodles,
Your devoted bowl of spaghetti
205. Killer
Here’s what it’s like when I encounter a cockroach. Watch for the end where he comes back to life.
204. I’d hit that
I’d hit that.
Me with a beard.
Our daughter.
Our son.
203. It all adds up to love
*this post was published at about 7:30 this morning, before speaking to you today.
Lean into the curves, Baby. It’s like riding a motorcycle. Take me with you. I can hang.
Speaking of curves, I was just sitting here at my desk thinking about your hands softly gliding all over my body that morning you came over and we had our little tea ceremony. Later, you nearly fell asleep in my bathtub while I buffed your feet with the pumice block. Then, we shared a late breakfast which included a little pastry that was like a cheese danish. I’m smiling now.
I love you wholly because I love you with every part of myself. I’ve talked to you a lot from my heart. I’ve saiid ALOT to you with my body. Im going to come back and say more about all that soon enough in another blog post, I’m sure. But here, I’m going to talk to you about why loving you makes sense to me intellectually. Im going to talk about how I love you with my head.
I love you with my head because I can see how the math works out between you and me. Our personalities and values are not identical, but rather, we compliment one another extremely well. We agree about fundamental things—even the importance of marriage, oddly enough. We both desire to be married to someone where we can be honest, vulnerable, emotionally intimate, spiritually connected, and real.
You and I both long for realness. We place a premium on kindness and think it’s important to build relationships not just inside the family, but outside—to cultivate community. Our superficial differences, such as certain political ideologies, make our conversations more interesting, and neither of us is so attached to any one position that it matters. We just aren’t that serious about that stuff, and that makes it fun even when we disagree.
I love your mind and watching you work through things. I love your determination, which originates from your mind. I love working my mind while you work your mind as we talk about Plato, as we analyze people, as we create together, and as we play.
I love how you enjoy new words, whether they’re the fancy academic sort or whether they’re slang straight from urbandictionary.com. I love when you make up words. I love the words we use together. Words like sweet. Words like baby. Words like windowpane moon. I love how you used the word mystery.
I love you with my head because I can see how you and me, with who we are and what we like to do, are well matched for this world. We travel well together. We enjoy being active. I will someday soon be able to support myself and even contribute financially. I have always wanted to build some shit. We love to sing and dance and eat together. And you understand me like I have never been understood before.
These are some of the ways it all adds up to me. This is part of why I love you so dang much.
202. Two Snails in Love
I asked the AI Chatbot, ChatGBT, to compose a poem about two snails in love hiding under a leaf. This is what it generated, and it’s pretty wonderful:
Two Snails in Love
Underneath a leaf, where none could see,
Two snails entwined, in love, carefree.
Their passion strong, their love so true,
A bond that only they both knew.
Their shells, a shelter, from the world above,
A sanctuary for their love.
Their bodies entwined, in a loving embrace,
Two snails together, in a secret place.
Their love grew stronger, day by day,
As they shared their lives, in every way.
They'd spend their days, in a loving embrace,
Underneath the leaf, in a hidden place.
The world moved on, but they did not care,
For they had each other, and that was rare.
In a world so vast, their love was small,
But it meant the world to them, after all.
Underneath the leaf, they found their peace,
In a love that never ceased.
Two snails, together, in a world of their own,
In a love that only they had known.
201. Forbidden love
You probably expect me to write about how I would give anything to be lying in your arms like I was earlier today. You probably expect me to say something about how kissing you is perhaps my favorite thing to do in the entire world. You probably think I’m going to rhapsodize about the classic sexiness of your body as a whole before considering all its constituent parts—like where your thigh runs into your hip, or that crease between your butt and your hamstring, or the broad roundness of your muscular shoulders.
Well, at least I’m predictable. Seeing you this afternoon was the greatest, Baby.
I am thinking about the version of myself who put those notes around for you to find. I just remember being alone and in your space and feeling sad about the prospect of losing you. I wanted to leave parts of me behind for you. And, of course, they’re true. I have waited my whole life to be loved like you love me. I love you too. That’s what this thing between you and me is all about.
I also would like to respond to something I’ve heard you say repeatedly since Christmas. You keep saying how awful it was that you rejected Robin’s advances and how sorry you are for hurting her by doing so. The thing is, though, that I asked you to do that because it just killed me to think of you making love to anyone except me.
Obviously, my attitude towards monogamy has shifted. It has shifted, in part, to accommodate this relationship. i have learned that emotional intimacy has always been and always will be more important to me than sexual monogamy. But at that time it meant a lot that you said you wanted to reserve your sensual energy for me.
Had you not avoided physical intimacy with her, it would have hurt me. So, while I understand that you feel bad about that, I’d like to remind you that you did it for the sake of preserving my feelings. I appreciate that you honored me in that way during a time when I was just beginning to learn how to give all myself to you. Even though you don’t mean it, whenever I hear you say how bad you feel for denying her during that time, I feel like you’re saying you regret being faithful to me.
Again, I know that’s not what you mean to say. I just thought letting you know I felt this way might provide some further perspective on the matter and that maybe you could feel slightly less guilty over that aspect of all this.
The only thing I have left to say is that I love you now more than ever before. Goodnight my Sweeeetz.