This being our three-day anniversary, I wanted to express my feelings for you in writing. That’s just the kind of romantic tender-heart I am. I’ll be sure to hide this letter in your bathroom medicine cabinet, so that it’ll flutter out when you brush your teeth tonight.
Speaking of your medicine cabinet, I see you’re on the pill. This is great news. I always carry protection, myself (in a variety of alluring colors, I might add). The pill, however, provides an additional layer of security against unwanted, parasitic infants (an unfortunate byproduct of passionate lovemaking, and the Universe’s sick idea of a joke, apparently).
If that hug we shared on our first date is any indication, we’re going to need all the protection we can get. You catch my drift, baby? Purr, hubba-hubba, meow, meow (and other terms of endearment that aren’t immediately leaping to mind).
I can’t believe it’s been two agonizing days since I’ve touched you. I can still taste your inner ear, where I stole a lick during our fervid embrace. And even though you shoved me away and pretended to be upset, I could tell you secretly enjoyed it.
If you’d really been angry, you would have peeled off the tracking device I stuck to your coat. As it is, you’re still a blip on my radar — quite literally, I might add. See, there you are: a pulsating red dot on my screen. I like to imagine it’s your heart, beating in time to mine.
Truth be told, I’ve never had these feelings before. You’re the only person — other than myself — with whom I’d want to make love. (Unless you count Lara Croft — which I don’t. But that’s only because she’s British and lives too far away for us to feasibly form a relationship. Otherwise, I’d be all over that chick. Hell, yeah. But don’t fret, my dear. My heart belongs to you. But maybe we could all do a threesome? I mean, if the stars aligned and the opportunity were to present itself?)
I hope you don’t mind me breaking into your apartment while you’re at work, but I wanted this memento to be surprise. So, are you surprised? Don’t worry: I’ll pay to replace the glass in the kitchen window. I’m just sorry your cat got out. I’m sure it’ll come back.
I’d love to see your face as you read this. In fact, I can. Go ahead and look in your bathroom mirror for me. Hi! When I was in your apartment, I took the liberty of installing a miniature surveillance camera behind a pane of one-way glass. That way, I’ll be able to watch you on my laptop as you read my profound, heartfelt outpouring of affection. I can already imagine the tears of joy that I’m sure will spring to your eyes.
Since we first hooked up on Craigslist, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. Along with death and mortality, you consume my every waking thought. In fact, you might even say I’m obsessed. (But in the good way; not in the creepy, stalking way where I’d take long-distance photos of you and paste them to my wall. That’d just be weird. Besides, who needs still photographs when I can watch you anytime I want to on my laptop?)
I’ve even been distracted at work, to the point where I spilled the embalming fluid. But no worries; the client didn’t complain. (That’s a little funeral-parlor joke, hon. I got a whole casket of them.)
And guess what? There’s more! I gave my landlord written notice today. I’ll be bringing over my first load of stuff this weekend. I hope there’s space in your living room for my python’s aquarium.
That’s right, baby — you’ve got yourself a live-in boyfriend. Isn’t it a little soon, you might be wondering? Not if you’re in love like I am. And the way I see it, why prolong the inevitable? I clearly adore you. But you probably gathered that when I licked the linoleum floor after you’d walked on it. It had the gritty, earthen taste of dried dirt, but anywhere you tread is sacred ground. (Although maybe you’ll consider wiping your feet better before coming inside? I mean, if I’m going to get in the habit of worshipping the ground you walk on, it would be better if your shoes were clean. I’m not criticizing; just a suggestion. You know, in the name of love and all.)
So happy three-day anniversary, sweetheart. Three days going on four — and four days going on forever. Isn’t a love like ours grand?
You should see the look on your face. (Luckily, you can, because I’ll be recording this video feed for posterity. I’m sure we’ll watch it over and over, so we can remember this day for the rest of our lives.)
With my love, always,
Melvin, The Love of Your Life
P.S.: Since I had the time, I went ahead and installed cameras in every other room of your apartment, just so I can make sure you’re safe. After all, you can’t be too careful. There are a lot of weirdoes out there.
Sweet dreams, my love. And I’ll see you this weekend when I bring my stuff over. Hoping there’s room in your freezer for my python’s frozen mice.