Our “epistolary love”?
Good. Good. Bring it on. What a sharp-tongue creature you are. Sarcasm, insulation, all that you did it fiercely well in the last mail.
Bring it on and don’t PGP-encrypted it. Someday Gmail staff will find them–those emails of ours. I hope they will get leaked so the world will know of our “epistolary love”: of how it started out carefully, continued sweetly, spiced up with longing and intersected with jealousy on my part, then end with your superb, powerful angry words that has such ability to crush the heart. You bastard. You, my sweet unattainable man.
You wrote that you think I will not go beyond our epistolary love nor our “spurious but expensive” second face to face encounter. The mail has been a good proof of why you deserved my attention in the first place. You worth the twenty-two letters of mine. Can’t believe I have written twenty-two letters to this man within the course of seven months already. If I am to get a letter of reproach, it has to be one that is well-written like this. There has to be in it word like epistolary love. Condemn me, but condemn me poetically. And you did it baby. You make me suspect that I myself might adore masochism.