Need to be Loved

Dear Damien,

I've sat down so many times to write this letter, and every time, I've chickened out. I don't know quite how to say what I want to say, and you know how I am when I can't find the right words. But I've finally decided that no matter how it comes out, I have to write to you. I need you to understand.

When I met you, I was a mess. I admit it. I was coming out of a horrible relationship, the last in a string of them, and I couldn't believe I'd ever find any better than what I'd had. You sat at my table in the coffee shop that day and said, "You look like a woman who needs to be loved." And I just stared at you, because at that point, I didn't think I deserved to be loved.

I spent a lot of time alone back then. I needed time to recover. But after that first meeting at the coffee shop, you kept showing up in random places. At first, it scared me. It was like you were stalking me. But then I realized you were trying to be my friend. The fourth time I ran into you at the coffee shop, I gave you my IM and phone number, and we started talking.

Those marathon phone calls and IM conversations got me through some of the worst times I'd had. There were nights I came home from work and wanted to die. Literally. I'd even figured out how to do it. But then I'd remember that you had promised to call or instant message me, and I hung in there. I didn't really want to die, I just wanted all the pain to end. I wanted to stop being afraid of every man I knew because he might hit me or rape me like my boyfriend had done. If I hadn't had you to lean on, though, I might have done something stupid. I don't think you ever knew how bad off I really was back then, and I'm glad you didn't, because one of my biggest fears was that you'd figure out how fucked up I was and turn your back on me.

But you never did. I lost count of how many times I cried during those first conversations, and you never turned your back. I kept apologizing to you, and you kept telling me not to worry, that was what friends were for. You were more than my friend, Damien. You were my savior. I got through those first few months after what my boyfriend did because I had you.

I wouldn't have gotten counseling if it hadn't been for you, either. Do you remember that? You'd been trying to talk me into it, and finally you said, "Look, if you don't call tomorrow and make yourself an appointment, I'm going to call for you. So you'd better do it." I did, the very next day. Counseling helped me a lot, but not as much as talking to you did.

I still remember the night things changed between us. I'd been in counseling for a couple of months at that point, and you and I'd started spending more time together outside the coffee shop. It was a tough night for me; it would have been the second anniversary for me and my boyfriend if he hadn't beaten the shit out of me, and I was a wreck. But by then, I knew I could reach out to you if I felt like a wreck, so I did. I asked you to come over and watch a movie with me, and I asked you to bring a movie since I hadn't been able to replace the ones I'd left behind when I left my boyfriend. I figured you'd bring one of the action movies you always talked about, but you brought some sappy romance, and you cuddled with me while we watched it. When we shared that first kiss that night, it seemed perfectly right.

And we didn't stop with kissing. You were so wonderful; you knew how scared I was, how broken, and you took it slow. Everything you did, you asked if it was okay. You touched my breasts and kissed them; you touched my pussy. No man had ever touched me so gently before. It made me feel something I'd never felt, a longing, an aching to have you inside me.

I was afraid to undress in front of you. I was afraid you wouldn't like what you saw. But when my clothes were off, you kissed every inch of my body, head to toe, and told me over and over again how beautiful I was. When you kissed my pussy, I was astonished; no one had ever done that for me before. And when I came, I was scared; it was the first orgasm I'd ever been given by someone else. Then you slowly slid your cock inside me and I finally felt whole. I'd been fucked plenty of times, but with you, for the first time, I made love.

Everything was perfect for the next few weeks. You were amazing, Damien. I lived for our times together, and I felt like you did too. Our lovemaking got better and better; you taught me things I'd never dreamed of, and you were always gentle, always wanted to make sure I felt good. We were more than friends, but I wasn't sure what we were until the night you told me you loved me.

My heart stopped when you told me that. I'd heard the words too many times before from people who didn't mean them, people who were just saying them to get something from me. I wanted to believe you meant them, but even though I knew you would never hurt me, when you said those words, I was scared as hell. What did you want from me?

That's why I left. I couldn't stay, because I didn't dare to accept what you offered. I didn't dare to tell you how I felt. You see, I love you too, and that terrifies me. But I threw away the best thing that's ever happened to me; I hurt the only person who's never hurt me.

Damien, I love you. I have to say it again. I love you, and I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't run away from you. I wish I could get back what we had, because I think I'm ready for it now. You probably hate me, and I wouldn't blame you at all. But if there's any chance, any chance at all that you can forgive me for leaving you, any chance that you still love me after what I did, I'll be at the coffee shop tomorrow morning at eight. You were right the first day we met. I'm a woman who needs to be loved, and you're the only man whose love I want.

I hope to see you tomorrow.

Love,

Gianna