Chuck to Qunicy

Dear Quincy,

Congratulations!  If you’re happy, I’m happy, and I think you’ll be happy with Mr. Architect (and I use that in a loving way).  What did your parents say when you told them?  I’m sure they are really excited for you too--they always loved him.  You two are going to buy a house.  You don’t know when the wedding will be, but you suspect next summer.  You’re freaking out, but this is what you want.  And because of that, I am really quite happy for you.

I’m bummed that we missed each other when I was in the Twin Cities.  You should come visit me in New York, when you get the chance.  There’s some great stuff here and some cool people.  You can meet my new girlfriend—well she’s not really my girlfriend.  In fact, she might not be my anything when I come back from my road trip.  You see, I gave her this ultimatum.  I told her she had three weeks (the duration of my journey) to decide if she wanted to be with me.  If she doesn’t want to, then I don’t want to hang out with her anymore.  It’s unfair, and I suck, I know.  I just can’t live in limbo like this anymore.  She didn’t know if she’d be able to make a decision.  I figure if she doesn’t, then it’s a “no.”

I’m almost a little afraid to contact her right now.  If I do, she might say she doesn’t want to be with me over the phone.  I don’t think that’s something I would want to deal with.  So even though I’m forcing her to decide, I’m almost too afraid to find out what she thinks.  It’s fuck up, I know.

Sorry to tell you all of this garbage.  This was supposed to be a carefree, congratulatory email.  It all just sort of spilled out.  I am really happy for you.  Bring Mr. Architect when you come visit me.

Congrats again,

Chuck