Jennifer Rae is back at the Pink Heart Society, spending V Day championing the love letter!
Many, many moons ago, when the earth was still young and my eyebrows were a lot thinner – I received a love letter.
I was living in the UK at the time and my boyfriend was missing me like crazy. So much so that our almost-daily phone calls were not enough, he had to pen me an eight page letter on all the things he loved about me. It was a little rambling and the spelling left a lot to be desired but I devoured every word. Every awkward phrasing, every heartfelt reminisce of the way we used to eat pizza and watch Friends episodes back to back.
My 20 something year old heart was full of romance and love and flowers and sunshine. As it turns out, the ass had another girlfriend and dumped me a few months later…but. That letter. It was everything my lonely heart wanted to read. But that was a long time ago. As I said – moons and moons. Now, the only ‘love letter’ I receive is a random post left on my Instagram page from bd34ivanov saying something ever-so-romantic such as ‘You like me to suck them titties? I make it very good for you.’ Now why didn’t Leo Tolstoy think of that line?
Are Love Letters dead? Do we even care? Do we miss them? What was so great about them anyway?
In order for me to fully understand the value of a love letter, I must look to some of the greatest love letters ever written. Aside from my ex’s adamant insistence that my hair smelt better than any other persons hair he’d ever smelt, I shall leave his musings out of this and turn to some better known love letters.
Beethoven’s Immortal Beloved
Beethoven fell in love a lot. He was mad for love. And the poor chump didn’t just enjoy a ladies ample bosom. He feel madly, deeply and dare I say it - stupidly – in love with every damn woman he met. No one actually knows who Beethoven’s Immortal Beloved was – but what we do know is that he was arse over tit for this woman.
“Oh continue to love me – never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved. Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours.
Johnny Cash to June Carter Cash
Johnny and June Cash’s love story started out a bit dodgy. Both were married. They met on stage. He took some drugs. She made him wake up to himself. And apparently he had a ring of fire. It was burning. But there’s turned out to be one of the most legendary rock n roll stories of all. They had every reason thrown at them to not be together but they gave zero fucks and as a result lived one of the most enduring love stories of all. And he wrote her a killer love letter.
“You still fascinate and inspire me. You influence me for the better. You’re the object of my desire, the #1 earthly reason for my existence. I love you very much."
Frederick Wentworth to Anne Elliot
This is my most very favourite love letter. It’s fictional, I know. But the idea that Capt. Wentworth still loved Anne Elliot after all that time. That he imagined he had no chance but still offered her his heart anyway. Even though she’d once broken it on him. That gets me. Right in the feels. I am patiently waiting for my own Captain Wentworth to show up. After several years. Madly in love with me. Pierced soul and broken heart in hand. Am waiting Captain…
“You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.”
Right. In. The. Feels.
John Keats and Fanny Brawne
I love, love, love this romance. Fanny is a ripper. Poor old Fanny wasn’t blessed with the classic good looks a heroine usually has. Apparently she ‘manages to make her hair look well – her nostrils are fine though a little painful – her mouth is bad and good.’ I’m fascinated in what constitutes ‘painful nostrils,’ but I digress. The point is; Keats wasn’t initially attracted to Fanny’s looks. It was her personality he fell for. Apparently she was an excellent flirt. She was fun and silly and opinionated.
When they met, Keats told his brother that she was a minx and that he was ‘tired of such style and shall decline any more of it.’ But of course, the silly man had no idea that it wasn’t his choice. Smart little flirty minx Fanny knew what she was doing. She would fight with him knowing full well it turned him on. She’d tease and tiff and flirt with the poor J-dog and he had no chance. He didn’t fall, he plummeted - deep into love. Let’s not discuss his early and painful death or the fact that she married someone else. Let’s focus on the now people. This man wrote his flirty minx a mean love letter.
“I cannot exist with you I am forgetful of everything but seeing you again – my Life seems to stop there – I see no further.”
Ok. So case closed. Love letters must come back. ‘Netflix and chill?’ ain't gonna cut it any more lads. I want a love letter. A long, rambling Shakespearian letter expressing your desire to die a cruel death rather than live without me. And go ahead and throw in a few compliments…bitches love compliments.
So c’mon. I know I’m not the only one. I’m campaigning hard for this one lovers. #bringbacktheloveletter Who’s with me?
Have you received a killer love letter? Go on – share a juicy bit with us. Or even better – a hilarious fail.
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