I don’t know how to start, really. It’s funny, I have so many thoughts, so many things to tell you, so many questions I want to ask, then when it comes down to it I can’t think of a thing to say. I don’t know if you’ll even read this, if it’ll manage to find its way to you out there in the quadrant of space you call home.
You never told me where you come from. If I knew, I could try to send this to you directly. But you kept that vague. You kept a lot of things about you vague. And I get that, I respect that.
We didn’t need to rush things. That’s part of the fun and excitement of being with someone new. Learning things about them slowly, discovering things in common. Where they’re from, what their favourite albums and books are, how many brothers and sisters they have. Or, in your case, how many flesh-stalks burst from the same spore cloud.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t completely know what to make of our time together. It all happened so fast, it’s still taking me time to wrap my head around everything. One thing I can say for sure is that you really swept me off my feet. Literally. When you sucked me into your spacecraft from the golf course I’d broken into and was exposing myself to caddies on.
I know we only spent one night together, but when something is right, you can just tell. I know you could feel it, too, I could see it in the glistening, pulsating sockets I can only assume were your eyes. Or your genitals.
The things you said to me that night, in your guttural, unnatural language, more disturbing than the screams of a hundred thousand grasshoppers lit on fire at once, were so romantic and beautiful, I imagine. And the things you did to me when I was strapped to that examination table, the way you explored my body. Well, I’ve never been touched quite like that by a lover before. And what happened in the indeterminate amount of time I was unconscious after you injected me with that phosphorescent blue liquid must have been magical.
Listen to me. Using words like “magical” and “lover.” I never talk like that. You’ve got me all frazzled. Oh, geez, “frazzled?” I never say that. But I’m just so giddy, my mind is all over the place, like someone turned on the warp drive. Is that a real thing in space ships? A warp drive? Or is that just in the movies? Oh, here I go again, just rambling on like a dummy. But that’s what happens when you’re in love, right?
Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. That just kind of slipped out. I didn’t mean that. No, just forget I said it. No, it’s obviously way too early to be using the L word. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I’ve probably scared you off now. I always do this. I meet someone really great, we hit it off, then I go and ruin everything by getting excited and trying to rush things. You probably think I’m totally crazy. I did this with that Sasquatch, I did it with that subterranean lizard-person, I did it with that cute waitress at the diner down the street, now I’m doing it with you.
But, wait, no, you know what? No, I’m not going to apologize for that. It’s how I feel, and why should I try to hide that? I’m going to put myself out there, all the way. Like that series of interlocking tubes you put all the way up my rectum. I know you felt it, too. The feelings, not the rectum thing. I dare you to look deep into whatever frightening conglomeration of physiology that approximates a heart and tell me otherwise.
I’m not asking for a lot. I’m not suggesting we uproot our entire lives to be together based on one night. All I’m asking for is that you give this a chance, because there’s clearly something there. And it’s something real. As real as the stars and the northern lights and those horrible spider-octopus things that your species contracted to rain inky black death upon the entire Earth so you can have unobstructed mining rights for the precious, precious nickel needed to make cosmic dildos for your chain of interstellar sex shops.
I’m just saying, next time you find yourself in my neck of the galaxy, drop me a line, maybe we could hang out again, see where things go. How about next month when you’re in town to blow up my solar system’s sun? We could go somewhere, make a weekend of it. I hear Pluto is really nice this time of year.
Photo by exoimperator via Flickr
