trashed

The relationship I had that recently ended was very wordy. One of the things I loved about the guy was his way with words. I loved his accent, very different from mine. I liked the way he phrased things, saying "I reckon" and occasionally lapsing into rather charming double negatives.

Mostly, though, I loved the way he wrote. He's a wonderful writer, although he isn't sure of that himself. But he is.

I first fell for him through his writing. Even though we live in the same town and saw each other pretty much daily for several months, we also exchanged reams and reams of e-mail. In writing, he's funny, insightful, evocative and provocative. They were terrific letters and notes.

These e-mails provided a rather lovely epistolary record of our courtship, but today I deleted all of them and sent them into the permanent cyberspace trashbin. They are just too painful to have around, given how things have ended.

It would have been tempting to go back and re-read them and end up feeling sad again and I'd rather remember the whole thing with a lot of affection and good will, because, despite where things stand, I have no regrets.

I hope he doesn't either.