Welcome back to the world of the living

It's been a while since I last wrote.

There is a reason for that, her name is "Isabelle" (a pseudonym), and I love her. "O.k.", you might say, but here's the deal, I've never met her. I "met" her online. We've had very personal IM chats. A lot of them actually, but I've never seen her, held her, looked in her face, caressed her cheek. Lately, we've added webcam feeds to our chats, which adds a level of interactiveness to the experience. Nothing taudry, just to see each other's face and reactions to the chat. We also talk over the phone. I love the sound of her voice. How can a voice be sexy? I don't know, but I get aroused hearing her describe what she's making for supper (huh?)

I feel connected to her at the deepest level. I feel like I can't live another day without her, holding her, hugging her, kissing her.

I love her. I say that soberly, an accurate description and reflection of what I feel in the deepest recesses of my soul.

I love her strength, her resilience, her character, her determination. I love that she knows what she wants, particularly since it seems to include me at the moment. I selfishly love that she loves me, that she thinks I am wonderfully attractive, handsome and glorious. She seems to care about me and would like to be with me in every sense of that word. It doesn't hurt that she is beautiful.

I love being able to tell someone that I love them, that I yearn for them, that I went to bed thinking of them and woke up still doing so. I love being able to use the most romantic love-filled language I can imagine on someone and really mean it in more than a perfunctory way. I love being able to love someone. What a gift, a pleasure it is to be able to love, wholeheartedly, unabashedly, without reserve, without needing to pretend anything or guard my words.

I know it isn't practical.

She doesn't know my flaws, my weaknesses, the things she would hate about me (I could venture a few guesses, but it'll be more fun to let her discover them on her own). She has never had to balance a checkbook with me, pay a mortgage or deal with a moody pre-teen. I am not the perfect person she imagines me to be, any more than she is. I struggle to accept the reality of her imperfection. Screw it, I can't. I'll have to discover that the hard way, should I be so lucky.

Our relationship is also geographically challenged, she lives more than 1000 miles from me. Would either of us really be willing to leave their families, jobs, lives to be with the other? If we did a long-distance relationship, would we be happy to just see each other a couple times a month at most?

I don't know.

I don't care.

Right now I know two things: she loves me, I love her. As practically absurd and ridiculous as that statement is, it is a reflection of what is in my heart and what I think is in hers. It may not last, it may be doomed, but that is the current reality. I may look back on this and gently laugh at my romantic optimism; or we may make it work and this will become a seminal moment in my life.

This is real, I am feeling it, and would give *anything* to have five minutes with her in a crowded room. It is beautiful and wonderful, I wish to savor every moment of it.

Did I mention she makes me sane? When I talk to her, I live in the present and future, I don't care about the past. I am able to accept what happened as unfortunate reality. I can care for, even love my ex-wife. and yet look forward to a new future. Isabelle makes me the person I want to be, hope to be. I want to exercise, eat well, live to 100 and die making passionate love to her.

So Isabelle, whatever happens to us: everything, nothing, something in between, please remember what I am telling you now: I love you, I thank God every day for sending you into my life.

Goodnight, my sweet love.