Dear Outlander,
I have a confession to make. Way back when we first started dating, I almost dumped you – but I’m sooo glad I didn’t. I realize now that I owe you an apology, and I want to come clean about the beginning of our relationship.
You remember the day we first met. You used to date my bestie Marilynn, and I can remember the way she slid you across the counter towards me and told me that we might be a good match. You didn’t look like much to me even then, your outfit didn’t have a lot of flash, and your Mom’s name was written all across the cover. I hadn’t ever heard of her before, and I thought – who is Diana Gabaldon, and what’s up with this mama’s boy trying to worm his way into my affections? But my girlfriend told me you had a great personality so I agreed to give you a try.
Our first date was nothing to write home about. I remember meeting your friends, Claire and Frank Randall, and I’m like, what’s up with this boring British chic, and her fastidious husband. I don’t like you, and I don’t like them. There was a lot of eye rolling that day, in case you didn’t notice, and I just wanted to slap you down on the couch and hop on over to Netflix. I called that damn Marilynn and read her the riot act for hooking me up with such a dud. But she was ADAMANT that I give you another try. Stick with it, she said, it’ll pay off in the long run. Whatever.
But then, on date number 2, things did start to change. We went to Scotland together, and we started hanging out with that Jamie Frasier guy. Now I was getting interested (I must admit, I was more attracted to him than to you, but that’s all water under the bridge). As our relationship got deeper, my respect for you started to grow, until all I wanted to do was spend more and more time with you. When we started cuddling on the couch together laughing and drinking, and spending lazy mornings in bed, I began to see what all the fuss was about. Dare I say, I started to feel extreme like, and then even love for you.
It’s true that after some time your looks weren’t quite as sharp as they used to be – your pages started to get a bit ragged and wine stained, and you got a little bloated because of dog-ears, and the way I stashed you when I needed a little break. But age changes all of us eventually, and I loved you still.
By the time you were finished sharing your history with me, I knew I couldn’t let you go. I know we were supposed to just be a fling, but my feelings had changed. I didn’t want to pass you on to one of my friends. I wasn’t interested in introducing you to my book club (I’m not into threesomes). So I won’t give you up. I hope you understand why I had to put you on the bookshelf, and I treasure the times when we hang out again, and re-visit all of our favorite adventures together. You’re always a fabulous read.
P.S. Even though you’re on the shelf surrounded by all of my old exes, just remember that I love you the best, and I’ll always be here for you!
Sincerely,
Your loving bluestocking
- To any of you out there who haven’t met my boo, here’s a look at him:
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