an open letter to our first muse
till we meet again
Hi.
Can I tell you something? I’ve never watched Tell Me Lies on Hulu. But from the clips I’ve watched on TikTok, I’m like - why does this show sound like something I would write/want to star in?
And specifically, I’m talking about this scene between Lucy and Stephen. I’m telling you - give me a show or a book with two characters with a toxic relationship spanning over 8 years and I’m sold.
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It’s the “I loved you. So why do you punish me for that?”
There’s something about this scene that gives me peace. Granted, I don’t know anything about this show or the storylines - but it’s that look between two former lovers. It’s relatable. And I’ve talked about that look before. That - we’ve dragged this out as much as we possibly could look. The bickering. The fighting. And for what? What are we trying to prove - to each other, or to ourselves?
It’s funny because we watch these shows and movies, and we read these books and these newsletters. And we want to root for a love story, but oftentimes, we find ourselves rooting for the most complicated ones. We want a movie moment - where those two old flames finally come to their senses and after years of up and down, finally profess their undying love to each other and promise to never hurt one another again.
Because underneath the bickering and the games and the self-sabotaging tendencies. What lies beneath it all: is love. And arguably, it’s the most innocent type of love. It’s that crush-on-the-playground type of love. That I-can’t-get-you-out-of-my-head type of love. But it’s a type of love that … requires something. It requires changes. And whether those changes are major life sacrifices, behavioural changes, or something else - for those two toxic lovers to finally come together - it’s almost like, there has to be some cosmic change in circumstance. And there’s one party that’s willing to change, willing to risk it - and there’s the other party, who isn’t.
I could make a zine of the screenshots from the tiffs and arguments me and OFM have gotten into over the past 7 years. Necklace Gate + Blue Jean Night (as he calls it), me telling him to “stop sending me memes” after we ended, us reconnecting years later to only disconnect again, him mad about me going to the driving range with another guy and the 6 drunk calls I received from him after, me knowing where to poke and doing it, his reactions, my reactions, his reaction to PN, my reaction to his reaction to PN, him not speaking to me, my reaction to him not speaking to me. Rinse and repeat. It’s been a saga.
And underneath all of that, my friends. Are feelings for him that have never gone away. Some have been diminished and rationalized, yes. But some still linger. And in the midst of this realization that I don’t think we’re cut out to be those star-crossed lovers, part of me, and I’m sure part of all of us - wanted, I’m going to share something completely vulnerable with everyone.
Instead of writing out a list of why I should get over him, I decided to list out all of the reasons why I liked him in the first place. Because, as my new wine-bar bartender friend told me the other afternoon - “It’s not about the love lost, it’s about the love had.”
So. Here it is, and here it goes. To your inboxes, and to the ether.
I like your eyes and I like how they fit within the shape of your face. I know that’s a weird thing to say, and a specific thing to notice. But I do. I don’t know why. It’s like those features that you feel within someone - there’s a certain kind of softness to it. And it’s kind of annoying that when you smile, your eyes also have that twinkle - because I always want to be the one with the stand-out eyes. But for the sake of me being honest, and for the sake of me being vulnerable - I will tell you that I was happy to share the eye spotlight with you.
I like your arms. I know I never tell you this either, and maybe I should have more. But they also make me feel safe. And you are also, the only person that I have ever let hold me throughout the entire night. My best friend never lets me forget that. “He’s the only one you let hold you.” Can you believe that? I never got too hot, I never left the room to sleep on the couch. I just loved those moments between us two. Fingers interlocked, feeling small, feeling supported, feeling taken care of.
I like when you wear blue, I like when you wear sweatpants, and I like when you wear that dumb navy puffer vest that every finance bro wears that I make fun of. Weirdly it’s my favourite outfit that I think I’ve seen you in, because you were just so unassuming. It was when we ran into each other a few weeks ago. Your head buried into your phone and watching sports - it’s like when people are in their own, real world. And you weren’t trying to be anyone else. You were just you.
I like when your name pops up on my phone. I like how I never know where the conversation will take us. But I know that it will always take us somewhere.
I like how you talk a lot when you get nervous. And I like how you probably know that you’re nervous, and you probably know that you’re rambling. But you won’t ever stop yourself.
And you know what? I like how I make you nervous. You won’t ever admit to that. But I know.
I like how you make attempts to impress me. And how they’re always met with eye rolls because you know the least attractive thing to me is when people aren’t themselves. But I like how you keep trying, anyway.
I like how…you always seem to take care of me, in your own way. I like how you’re a gentleman when we go out. I like how you’re protective. I like how you understand me. I like how I can message you for life advice, and no matter how long it’s been, you’ll reply minutes later. I like how you know that I still write about you, and you let me write whatever I want about you. I like how you let me be me.
I asked you once, “Isn’t that kind of masochistic?” Since you know very well what I write. You looked down and shook your head, “No” - because I think you too, like PN, understands what it means to be an artist, and what it means to be free.
I like how you would always tell me that I was worth a lot more than how I was being treated by Peter Pan (from what you read, or from what you allowed yourself to read). I like how you always saw me in a light that was brighter than how I saw myself.
There’s something to be said about the tears I’m shedding right now. I am always reminded by my dad who says, “tears are a sign your heart is healing.” So. I welcome these tears that are now falling onto the backs of my hands as I write this to you. I welcome the memories of that 24 year old girl who walked into a bar and who let some guy in a really nice suit buy her a glass of Pinot.
But I also welcome this moment. How I went out for a walk this morning, and how the Christmas decorations in the city are going up. Coffee in hand, face buried into my vintage fur. Me smelling the rows of candles at Indigo, knowing that I finally have a home to decorate for Christmas. Knowing that I’m beginning a new chapter. A new era. And that I get to take these memories with me. And I get to keep them safe, tucked away inside my heart, while simultaneously, building something new. Knowing that those moments between us meant something. They really meant something to us both. Knowing that some sort of cosmic force waved its hand in the air on that night we met, 7 years ago, and aligned something.
But, there’s also a knowing that that same cosmic force will do it again. And again, and again, and again.
So, here’s to you, Our First Muse. Thank you for starting this. Thank you for starting everything.
Till we meet again,
Emily