It was quite a surprise when I arrived home to find your letter awaiting me. It has been a vast amount of time since we have last spoken, and our relationship had been left strained. Upon eyeing your letter, I debated whether or not I wanted to open it. You see, dear Henry, I was having such an exquisite day frolicking down by the lake with an old friend. I did not want to tarnish that memory with your brutal, yet ignorant, honesty. After struggling with this decision for a few moments, curiosity finally won the battle. I unfolded the pages and began to read. I must say, I almost could not comprehend it when it was indeed an apology letter for your past discretions!
With that being said, I hope this letter is received in a timely manner as you do not have long left in this world. If it does not indeed reach your eyes before your departure, I will understand, as I am the three hundred and seventy-fifth most important person on your list. Either way, I felt it important to reply to the matter at hand. This will be my one and only letter.
You see, the only reason I flattered you with gifts and attention was because my mother was petrified that I would never find a husband. It was not because of my apparent plainness, as you have so lovingly put it, but more because I was a very independent, strong woman. It would take a strong man to keep my attentions, and I fear that while you were such an educated and eloquent man, my affection for you would not have become passionate. Even when you kissed my hand in farewell, it had all the passion of a wet, limp noodle. If that was due to your drunken randy nature, I am not sure.
Although, unbeknownst to you, time has been very dear to me. That frizzy hair and plump bottom that dissatisfied you so have now blossomed into exotic curls and a fine hour glass figure. At the tender age of seventeen, I was not yet a woman. I guarantee that if you were not so ill and were able to visit, you would kick yourself in the same way a mule does when irritated. I will see about sending a picture, but I have some reservations as it may bring you to our maker much sooner.
I apologize if this sounds insensitive as you are most certainly reading this on your deathbed, but I will not be pining for you. I understand this fancy of yours that I am in love with you has most likely gotten you through some harsh, tough nights, but alas, I have been married for quite a few seasons now. This man, my husband, is a very fine gentleman. He reminds me a bit of you; he is intelligent, educated, and very worldly. The only difference is while you always appeared to have no unique details to define you, my husband can rarely leave the house without being noticed. He reminds me of a warrior of long ago, where you, dearest Henry, remind me more of a stable boy. Your picture confirms my memory of you was on point. Of course, it is not your fault as you cannot change your appearance. These things just happen.
If I may be so bold, I would also like to note that while you were trying to produce faster than rabbits with my whole family, (it was even rumored that you made a drunken pass at Uncle Elderberry), my husband has been faithful. This is another quality I forgot to mention you lack.
So, while you continue your delusions about unrequited love, please note that it is only unrequited on my end. I will disregard the measurements you sent as they no longer apply to me, and I will burn this letter so as not to upset my husband. You see, he has quite the jealous nature, and I fear he would help you along with your current situation.
Adieu for the last time,
Mrs. Penelope T----- Formerly Miss Penelope Pennington
Created: Feb 28, 2014BreeKrafty Document Media