{"product_id":"letter-036-toy-boy","title":"Letter 036 — Toy Boy","description":"\u003cp\u003eDear me,\u003cbr\u003eI love when the light finds its way to fall over a certain spot and the sun gives it the incredible power of making it feel special.\u003cbr\u003eA chosen one.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis is exactly how the light had made the summer house of my client look, while I am sitting on the red sofa right across with my laptop and the last week's events.\u003cbr\u003eIt is relaxing here.\u003cbr\u003eAt least at that time of the day.\u003cbr\u003eShe is engaged with her iPad, and I have the peace and quiet and the noon sun performing right in front of me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe kisses and the hand-holding are haunting me more than any sexual thought crossing my mind.\u003cbr\u003eMoving to lying down in bed and just hugging.\u003cbr\u003eI am not even getting turned on thinking about him.\u003cbr\u003eThe only orgasm I am close to these days is the quiet one — my soul, finally exhaling, finally held.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWow.\u003cbr\u003eWas it that long ago that a mind could undress me faster than a hand ever could?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMy attraction towards men has always started purely sexual.\u003cbr\u003eThere has always been some fantasy behind it, some idea running the show before the body even showed up to perform.\u003cbr\u003eWhile here, with him, it isn't about looks anymore.\u003cbr\u003eIt never used to not be about looks.\u003cbr\u003eWow.\u003cbr\u003eSince when did that change?\u003cbr\u003eI am only talking to myself, after all.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt isn't that he's stupid.\u003cbr\u003eIt's that there's no ambition running underneath the surface — nothing simmering, nothing being built.\u003cbr\u003eA gorgeous house with the lights off in every room.\u003cbr\u003eNo dreams he's chasing. No goal pulling him forward. Just a body standing still and calling it peace.\u003cbr\u003eAnd when I am constantly sharpening my own knives, that kind of stillness in a man doesn't soothe me — it starves me.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis stories are so poorly formed that most of the time, the moment he opens his mouth, I'm already bored before the first sentence lands — foreplay performed by someone who skipped straight to the end and forgot I was still in the room.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt wasn't as noticeable on the first date.\u003cbr\u003eBefore that we had only been chatting, and not everyone knows how to seduce a woman through a screen.\u003cbr\u003eAnd the date itself was more activity than conversation — hands and adrenaline doing the talking neither of us had to do.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut afterwards, I started noticing I can't actually think next to him. And thinking, for me, has always been the first thing that gets wet.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd the protection he offers — the way he holds my hand, makes me feel like a woman, looks after my basic needs, gives me his jacket without me asking — that's real. That's not nothing.\u003cbr\u003eBut a jacket has never once made me come.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI know.\u003cbr\u003eI know.\u003cbr\u003eI am horrible.\u003cbr\u003eBut am I?\u003cbr\u003eIs it really horrible on my end to measure myself more and to want more?\u003cbr\u003eNo.\u003cbr\u003eI don't think so.\u003cbr\u003eI've done my share of charity towards men, claiming that they are more than I deserve.\u003cbr\u003eBut this year, on Sunday 036 of 52, the tables have turned.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWait.\u003cbr\u003eWhen I said the tables have turned, I saw myself on the side of the guy who wants the girl only to fulfil a part of himself he needs once in a while, simply because he enjoys how much she enjoys him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHoly shit.\u003cbr\u003eSo this is what it's like — to hold the leash and still feel nothing pulling back.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAt this point, I feel like I am battling with myself.\u003cbr\u003eI may consider sleeping with him anyway. Using his body the way mine has been used — as inventory, not as a person.\u003cbr\u003eBut would that be fair to him?\u003cbr\u003eThen again, isn't he old enough to sign his own contract?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShould I let this guy go and move on, or should I take full advantage of him, the way I've been taken advantage of so many times?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDear me, the worst part is that the battle is between you and me.\u003cbr\u003eTwo of a kind.\u003cbr\u003eOne of us has to step back.\u003cbr\u003eI feel like you're on one of my shoulders, telling me that using someone is wrong.\u003cbr\u003eAnd then there's the other one — the one I'm becoming — doing the same thing, but not feeling nearly as guilty about it, like guilt is a language she stopped needing to be fluent in.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo be honest, the thought she puts in my head — creating a toy for myself for once instead of being one — is starting to turn me on more than he ever has.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMaybe it isn't only about what a person gives us.\u003cbr\u003eMaybe it's about what we don't realise we give them back, even in the version where we're using them.\u003cbr\u003eIf someone has been awakening something in me — even something as unglamorous as feeling protected — what right do I have to dismiss what he might be gaining from being wanted by me too?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd I, somewhere in between — half hunger, half conscience — am beginning to wonder...\u003cbr\u003ewhich crossroads do I take?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd then, almost on cue...\u003cbr\u003ehe gets hot again.\u003cbr\u003eNot because anything about him actually changed.\u003cbr\u003eHe didn't suddenly grow a spine, or a plan, or a better story to tell over dinner.\u003cbr\u003eI just handed him a fantasy to stand inside of, and he filled it out better than he ever filled a silence.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSo maybe I was never attracted to him at all.\u003cbr\u003eMaybe I was attracted to the plot I decided to write him into.\u003cbr\u003eGive me a story, and I will always find a man willing to play a part in it — mine, not his.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhich means the real question was never about him.\u003cbr\u003eIt was always about which fantasy I'm willing to keep casting real men in.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eFor sex, looks and a good enough fantasy will always do the job.\u003cbr\u003eThey did tonight.\u003cbr\u003eStarted with looks, once. Then I convinced myself it had to be intellectual, or it didn't count. Now apparently a fantasy alone can do the undressing.\u003cbr\u003eAll three are true. None of them are the whole truth.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBecause depth doesn't get cast. It doesn't wear a costume well and call it enough.\u003cbr\u003eDepth needs a man who can hold the room even after I stop writing his lines for him.\u003cbr\u003eAnd the moment I go quiet and wait for him to carry it himself...\u003cbr\u003ethe glove doesn't fit.\u003cbr\u003eIt never did.\u003cbr\u003eI just have really good tailors.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Love Letters To Myself","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":58290463048011,"sku":null,"price":1.49,"currency_code":"GBP","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1064\/4802\/7979\/files\/letter-036-cover.png?v=1787947111","url":"https:\/\/loveletterstomyself.co\/products\/letter-036-toy-boy","provider":"Love Letters To Myself","version":"1.0","type":"link"}