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| We all know Romeo and Julia were amateurs compared to grandma & grandpa |
Valentine’s Day is one of those rare occasions where even mistress cannot win. No one beats the commercial classes. The Dutch Automobile Association is running an add right now where it encourages you to sign up, so you can be with the one you love on Valentine’s Day. Commercial interests high-jacked February 14. Ordinary guys long ago learned, they loose either way. If she says we’re not gonna do anything for Valentine’s Day this year, don’t fall for it. What if she does? Doomed if you do and doomed if you don’t. As for the most romantic day of year, some say Valentine’s Day is, better don’t ever get married any year.
Perhaps there is a better way to find your how deep is your love. I like to travel to odd places. Over the years, I made a few friends along the way. One of them is daft. No doubt he’d say the same about me, if he knew I was into femdom. Whatever makes you happy. He is the kind of guy who goes to dangerous places. A few years ago he visited Afghanistan. Despite all his precautions, a high risk endeavour, so he wrote some letters, just in case.
How do I know? I was one of the intended beneficiaries, aka the guy who had to clean up his mess, in case he didn’t return. Luckily he did – and not because of the work involved.
Still, it feels kind of odd having a bunch of letters in your drawer, only to be opened if someone does not return. A few months ago, he told me he had another trip planned: Iraq this time. And no he is not going to join ISIS. He hates them. As his bestie, he asked me if I would do the honours once again. What can you say?
The avalanche of commercial crap – aka the notion that love can be bought – made me think about the whole thing. If it was me who had a lobotomy and go to those stupid places, whom would I write a letter?
Just think about the why and how for a minute. You’re sitting behind your laptop in the comfort of your own home, about to go on a discovery everybody says you shouldn’t. Not that the odds are against you, otherwise you wouldn’t go. But it poses a significant risk nonetheless. The letter you write is the last thing the one you love will ever hear from you. If you return safely, you shred them and they will never know. But if you don’t make it back, what do you want to say to them, one last time?
The beauty of it – pardon the expression – is no matter what you write and whatever choices you make, it condenses everything that ever mattered to its mere essence. An exercise in honest and pure love so you will.
I like to think that in composing such a letter, you'll discover some truths. Is your mistress just a toy to please you? An adorable illusion that serves the both of you? Or is it about the woman, someone you love with or without you being her slave.
My rather daft mate wrote three letters. If I were him and had to write three such letters, who would I write one? That’s easy. The first one goes to the crap cleaner (aka the unlucky guy). The second one to the young woman, whose Christmas I saved. And the third one? Wouldn’t you like to know. So would I.
To be honest, nobody knows for sure until you write them for real. But that’s the whole point. If you make it back it doesn’t matter what you wrote. If you don’t it doesn’t matter what you wrote either. That's not exactly true. After all, it's why you write them.
Anyway, writing such a letter has more to do with what Valentine’s Day is all about – even if your writing is imaginary – than all the crap advertising is forcing upon us in the name of love, let alone some poor misguided domme brainwashed by commerce, who demands her prezzie on this - special - day as a token of your devotion.
But no matter how beautiful your letter is, these are probably the most beautiful love letters ever.
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