It's easy to become constricted by my own, self-imposed, rules.  So far, every person I have written about here is someone who, at some point in the past or present, I could have called a lover.  It's easy to get hung up in that and write a laundry list of lovers, a titillating story of people and clothing undone, but that does a disservice to everyone on the list.

I've written about you before, in entries both public and private.  In the years before private entries I often avoided acknowledging you by name, allowing the unaware  to draw the conclusion that I must actually be speaking of the person I married.

It was not always the case.

For this installment, instead of starting with new words, I will acknowledge some old ones that were about you all along:

[This entry is restricted, though I could have removed one sentence and made it public.]

If you knew I were writing this list, and I doubt that you do just yet, you would not expect to be on it.  I don't think you've ever seen yourself as important.  I've never known how to change that, but I hold to the belief that you will see it, given time and consistency on my part.

[This entry, for obvious reasons, is restricted.]

I never expected to have anyone like you in my life. Our story is as improbable as it is salacious, and while I may not be able to talk about it honestly with everyone I know, it still matters to me more than I think you have ever realized.

Since I believe in letting everyone stand on their own words around here, I'll share what I just found in my inbox. The name and email address are unchanged. I see no reason to obscure the sender's identity.