I was 17 when I met you, and you a year younger. I was devoid of cash, devoid of transport and living 200 miles from you. We met on holiday in Newquay in what was the last summer of my youth. I was young and handsome, and you were young and pretty. You were a good catholic girl and I loved you. I kept the letters you wrote me for years afterwards and only recently parted with them. Considering we were so young, and considering we lived so far away and only saw each other a few times after the holiday, it’s incredible to me, that I still remember you to this day. I bet you don’t remember me.
I actually still remember when you told me it was over and that the distance was too great, that you needed to focus on your studies. That is just insane. It’s fifteen years ago!
You came along and you experienced me at my most loving. I don’t think I ever felt about anyone else the way I felt about you.
I just hope that you’re happy and successful. You deserve it.