Hey Pickle,

Whatever happens with us, I don't want it to just end with one of us ghosting. Whether we end up together, each other's sir and pup, handler and boy, friends who have incredible sex, or whatever — doing it all online is not the way. So I wrote this down, because I am very much Dug from Up, and if I didn't write it down I'd squirrel halfway through, and you deserve the whole thought.

You're amazing. You just are. Sweet and funny and caring, and you get me — at least as well as anyone does, and sometimes better than I get myself.

But we're similar in a lot of ways, and one of those is that neither of us lets people all the way in. We keep parts of ourselves siloed. Maybe because it's easier to compartmentalize. Maybe because there's a whole fuckload of fear in letting one person know too much about everything. I know for me, there are times I don't even like me — so if everyone else seems to, and I let one person close enough to find out why I don't… that's terrifying.

I feel like I've found the person I want to be with. I just don't know if that's the same in return. And I've made it a real point not to pry — not to ask friends, not to dig around. People have offered to tell me things and I've avoided it on purpose, because I don't want to judge based on someone else's experience. That's not fair to either of us.

But I can't keep going the way it's been. This situation has managed to hit every single one of my traumatic things, rolled up into one. And I'm not dealing with it well.

You know what keeps coming back to me? Azúcar amargo was the song that spoke to me the night we closed down SoFo. A song about loving someone who's equal parts intoxicating and elusive — feeling them shift even while they're still right there. My gut already knew before my brain did. And here I am, not walking away, just asking you to stop running and show up.

And you know I've mentioned that song before — fifty percent.

Life is anyone's guess. It's a constant surprise. Though you don't plan to fall in love — when you fall, you fall. I'd rather have fifty percent of him, or any percent of him, than all of anybody else at all.

And it's true. I would. But I need a percent in return.

Just as you've taken the time to sort out you, I need to do the same. I'm getting back on my meds — that's been the big problem and I know it. I'm getting into the gym. I'm building a schedule. I'm cutting way back on the drugs — I don't need it to be a thing, but it can't be what it's been either.

So here's what I propose — and I've said this before and I meant it — let's make it easy. What if instead of waiting for the other shoe to drop, we just run around barefoot? Let's not start over. Let's just slow down. Let's go on that date. Let's actually get to know each other. Let's not rush into moving in together. Let's not skip ahead.

You've been getting to know Logan. And honestly, so have I. But I need to know Charlie too. The real one. And I already know I'm going to like him a lot.

This is my last big letter. I'm buying a journal. No more grand pronouncements. Progress, not perfection.

But this is a two-person verb, and you've gotta conjugate your half of it.

Whatever we are — whatever we become — I just need it to not end like this. Not over text. Not by disappearing. We're better than that.

Let's make this work.

Yup.

— Logan