How About It?
How about the way my ears move when I start listening, or the way my hair gets fluffier as the day goes on?
11/24/09
You might enjoy They Call Me Naughty Lola: Personal Ads from the London Review of Books. The book is a best-of, and you can see the fresh batch online here—just scroll to “Personals.” For example, one up now reads: “I fear packing peanuts possibly more than [any] other man alive. But I never fail to weep at the simple beauty of swans making love.” Bless that British wit.
Driven
I thought I had an insanely high sex drive. Turns out, I just had an insanely high you drive.
Pumpkin Head
I can’t count the times I wished I said yes when you asked me back to your place after the ball that night.
Old News
The day I admit to my grandmother that we broke up is the day I start getting over you.
Monkey Wrenching
You couldn’t even tell the difference between a set of pliers and a wrench, but still you were the best man I’d ever met.
Minor Threat
If you break my heart again I will definitely break your skateboard.
Tryright
Trying for you was the rightest thing I ever did; I just went about it all wrong.
It Sells!
Hear you’re trying to get a book deal. About what, exactly? How to have sex with everyone in sight and screw over your best friend?
Coke Head
You made me try Diet Coke. Now I’m addicted. If I ever suffer any conditions that can be definitively traced to massive ingestions of aspartame, I will blame you.
My One Scent
I loved your smell. Not the smell of your cologne, or your deodorant, or your shampoo—the smell of you that your body makes and that no one else can ever imitate or duplicate.
Set and List
I drive by the bar we spent so much of the summer at. I often see your truck on karaoke night. Please don’t sing “It Just Comes Natural” to any other woman, or ever again for that matter.
Earn Heart
I’d gladly spend the day watching Nascar with you, if it meant we’d get one more day together.
For Keepsakes
You handed me a stray thread from your suit pocket and told me to keep it, for it was memorabilia. I tossed the strand aside, but I still have so many stray thoughts of you.
About this
"Dear Old Love" is short notes to people we've loved (or at least liked). Requited or unrequited.
The ex-husband in Grace Paley's short story "Wants" says to his ex-wife, "I attribute the dissolution of our marriage to the fact that you never invited the Bertrams to dinner." If you're bitter, that's the way to express it here.
Please email pithy, specific "Dear Old Love" notes to dearoldlove(at)gmail.com. Posted submissions will be anonymous, and all submissions will be held in confidence. I would never sell or give away your email. (I wouldn't even know how.) If privacy is a concern, use an account with a pseudonym.
By emailing me, you're granting a permanent, royalty-free license to edit and use your "Dear Old Love" note in any way, but your note will remain anonymous. Dear Old Love will be published as a book by Workman in Fall, 2009. My name is Andy Selsberg. Thanks. Enjoy.
