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Wednesday, March 9, 2011

156th e-mail

From: Dom Borax
To: Stacey Marchenkova
Sent: Tuesday July 23rd 1999 2:35 AM
Subject: RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE RE Perhaps…

Yeah. Oh.

So here it is. Here’s the truth. This is what I’ve been bottling up for months.

And please stop reading now. I am about to open up my chest and let it all out.

It’ll be easier to write if I know you’re not reading.

So please stop reading now!
















Okay, I’ve tricked myself into believing you’ve stopped reading and I’m just writing to myself.

So here it is.

I do like you.

I like you very much.

We connected – bantering about collectives and silly dog names.

And the first night we went out was lovely.

I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I had that hollow cup feeling, you know?

I was fourteen again. I’d write your name all over the place even with my finger in the air, in dirt with a stick. One evening I bought some sparklers and wrote your name in the night time sky.

I even made you a mix tape too. How shameless.

Here was the track list:
1: Am I wrong – Love Spit love
2: Thirteen – Big Star
3: You’ve lost that Lovin’ feeling – The Human League
4: This is the day – The The.
5: Melt with You – Modern English
6: Let’s Ride – Roger Nichols and his Small Circle of Friends
7: The Night I heard Caruso Sing – Everything but the Girl
8: Unguarded Moment – The Church
9: Gossip – My Friend the Chocolate Cake
10: Ghosts – Japan
11: Margot’s Waltz – Lloyd Cole
12: Don’t Think Twice it’s alright – Bob Dylan
13: If I could talk - Lemonheads
14: That’s Entertainment – The Jam
15: Ouija Board – Morrissey
16: Ship Song – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
17: Glory Box - Portishead
18: Hard Times – Baby Huey

But I never gave it to you. I think I was embarrassed. I mean it’s such a clichĂ©d thing to do.

I tried to write you a poem too; something a little funny, quirky and childish. But it was mainly crass – so sorry for even attempting.
But then Marcus happened (and that’s cool) and you liked him (again – cool) and I fucked up (not cool) and knocked that stupid drink over (really not cool).

I know I did it because I was emotionally all over the place. And you owed me nothing. I was an idiot - plain and simple.

But I still thought of you. I tried not to.

I dreamt of you. I saw your face on strangers in the street.

You were everywhere; on the radio, in the newspaper, on the television.

Your face was plastered twenty feet high on billboards. Your image was posted on the side of buses selling a great romantic movie that was coming soon.

I tried to make it stop. I really did. I’d close my eyes. I tried to sleep. But you were still there.

I was crushed.

And do you remember that rave (‘Herpes and something or other ball’ a few months back). You asked me if I turned up because of you.

I lied.

I believe I went on some verbal rant about how amazing the night was and how it was coincidence I was there.

But the truth is I did go out that night because you were there.

I even tried to tell you how I felt.

I recall the moment; a smooth mix of Biftec was playing. You were dancing with Marcus and I said,

‘Leave him. Run away with me.’

But the music was so loud you nodded and didn’t hear me.
And when the morning came and I saw you with Marcus, I suddenly realised that I was a cuckoo; foolish and sinful.

And it wasn’t just guilt.

It was the romantic Gods that told me.
You did look good together.
You smelt good together.
Your children would be healthy.
That’s what the Gods told me.

I admit I cried a little that night.

And in the morning, Elsa came home with that Keith guy. Remember him? Very handsome and very dull. They went straight into her room.

And I was alone (I have a small bear for these moments – had it since I was one week old)

So I decided to stop. I hit my chest hard and decided to stop.
The following morning, I woke groggy – coming down. I met Keith in the Kitchen (good name for a band) and love, sex and the whole pot suddenly seemed a little unfair.

So when Keith was gone I drew pictures of knobs with Elsa.
The next morning we woke in the same bed.

And though I still occasionally thought of you as I kissed her, I knew this was maybe a cure.

I focused on Elsa and tried to forget about you. And I enjoyed it. I really did.

For a week or so.

But you emailed again and it was ever so tempting to go back. I tried not to. I tried not to email you so obsessively.

If you recall, I wrote curt, short replies.

And I spent my time with Elsa.

But soon I was back; falling for you again. And all those feelings of teenage pain returned too.

But it was getting familiar. I liked it.

And when we went to your birthday dinner party and I met some of your new friends, I felt comfortable. I felt that I could sit with you, as yours, and fit right in.

But I was with Elsa and she’s so sweet.

And there you were too, at the head of the table preparing to flash your breasts in the female toilets.

Things were now very complicated.

I remember holding Elsa’s hand under the table and gently stroking her knee as some kind of guilt compensation.

I couldn’t even look Marcus in the face. I felt he knew and when he left so abruptly, part of me felt it was because of me. He was upset at me. Deep down I knew this was madness, but I couldn’t help think that he was returning home and preparing some kind of home made bomb with my address on it.

And all the while my hand remained on Elsa’s knee.

The following day when you emailed and discussed your awful night, I felt so buoyed that you considered me safe to discuss such woe.
And then Oftenbark started writing. That was liberating. I could say some of the things I couldn’t directly.

And I felt you could too.

It was an affair of sorts.

I even put it out there. I don’t know if you recall but Oftenbark suggested that we’d make a great couple.

You correctly saw through this ruse and shut it down.

And I understand.

But for a few hours, I hated you a little.

I wanted you to confess, that you had feelings for me too.
But you didn’t. And that’s cool.

So I stopped writing as Oftenbark and tried to return to Elsa.
But you kept coming. You invited me over for breakfast. You even invited Elsa. I said she was asleep. She wasn’t. I wanted to be alone with you.

I spent so long in the bathroom before coming. I deliberated about what clothes to wear. I thought about bringing you the mix CD.
I giddily arrived. I was so happy to see you.

But as soon as I stood in Marcus’s apartment, I truly realised that you were with him.

Not me. I was so close to acting foolishly.

And this feeling of jealousy and disempowerment brought back that moment with my ex and Russell.

And I hated myself then. I felt sorry for myself and I hated myself.
I even told you the story about Russell, so you’d feel sorry for me too, I think.

And I think you did. We plotted ways to kill him. I loved that game.
And for a moment I convinced myself that this was the best outcome. We’d be secretly intimate in our writing and publicly polite everywhere else.

You’d be with Marcus.
I’d be with Elsa.

And we’d shag with emails.

We’d have something with each other that we never would share with them.
We had secrets. We had fears. We had cruelty. We had fun.

I was going to survive.

Thank God, I was going to survive.

And then you broke up with Marcus.
(not quite sure how to write a musical dramatic chord progression to punctuate the moment – maybe something like Dum-dada-da-DAAAAA!)

So my plan didn’t work.

You see, for me to survive I needed you to have Marcus. I needed you to have the real relationship so we could have the secret one.

So you’re right, I was being safe in my responses to you. I was being a councellor. But if I didn’t, this is what I’d write:

“Dear Stacey, don’t be with Marcus. Be with me. He’s an idiot. I am too. But I know it. He doesn’t."

And for the record you shouldn’t have break up sex with him. He’s a fuckwit and you’re being foolish and perhaps a little cruel.
Besides he’s still controlling it and if you think differently – you’re deluded.

Finally – and here's the big one, if you actually want to go back with Marcus well that’s fine and good. But if you do, please stop writing to me.

I don’t think I can take it anymore.


PS So there it is. Complete honesty.
God I hope you haven’t read this.


  1. I am ecstatic and giddy with joy. Finally. Don't really know what to say, and I don't think she will either...

  2. Summer blockbuster, anyone? I'd go see this in theatres!!

  3. Dom said he once tried writing a poem to/for Stacey but failed. With this email I think he's succeeded in writing an epic.

    Team Dom! (Can't believe I just said that)

  4. This is great. In so many ways this cuts close to the bone with me. Is it that Dom and I are so alike in many ways, or that we are both victims of universal truisms of the romantic nature?

  5. Okay Catfink, i think we have a major BOOOM SHAKALAKA right here! :)

    Ahhh Dom.. i think Dom and I might be related. I've thought this line in my head.. actually i may have been better off if i just said it out loud.. sigh:

    "Dear Stacey, don’t be with Marcus. Be with me. He’s an idiot. I am too. But I know it. He doesn’t."

    It's that feeling where.. as a guy, you know you're worth so much more, but you're still as stupid as the next man, for the same girl.

    It's that sense of being crushed, all over again..

  6. Nice stuff. Nearly makes me want to go back and re-read all the earlier ones ...

  7. I think the hardest things to do is what Dom has done - not pouring his heart out with honesty and love, but telling Stacey that if she wants to be with Marcus, she can't speak to him anymore.

    For someone who has such a depth of feeling for another person to try to push them away is one of the hardest things to accomplish in love.

    I think Dom is desparately hoping that Stacey will break up with Marcus once and for all because if she doesnt, there is no way he'll be able to stop talking to her forever. It would be even more torturous than staying friends knowing she's with Marcus.

    Been there, done that! :-/

  8. Oh no I hate it when your at work and blinking back little tears, damn it I am such a sook!

    What a confession, and I love that he finally gives her an ultimatum - its him or Marcus. Now Stacey dont fuck this up!

  9. *slow clapping that speeds up with enthusiasm*

  10. *Reads, eyes and jaw opening wider and wider; commences reading, clenches fist with a "YES!"*

  11. *girlish scream*
    Oh my gosh, I'm so happy that I can't form coherent thoughts.
    Maybe I'll come back later when my head is cleared of the explosive amounts of happy.

    I was thinking that since I started reading.
    We should buy tickets to each showing and never stop watching this.

  12. Wow I would watch this if it was made into a movie too. How cool would that be?

  13. Where was Berlin's 'Take My Breath Away' on the mix tape? Come on Dom, you're better than that.

  14. wow wow wow Guys I too feel the Dom connection, man do I ever. This is an awesome post and firmly puts the ball in Stacey's court. Way to grow a set Dom. Let's all go see this movie together shall we? And Holly yes GOD it's hard... I am at the end of that myself and I don't envy anyone who has to go through it...

  15. AHHHHH finally!

    I knew Team Dom was the way to go from the very beginning!

    Everything we have predicted was correct!

    I would go see this in theatres as well :)

  16. and if it dosen't work out maybe he should give her a mix tape with just this song on it.

  17. or maybe not give it to her, just listen to it himself on repeat.

  18. Of course the problem with letters like this is that once it becomes necessary to send them, it's already too late.

  19. it is nice that Dom's balls are finally starting to descend...

  20. RedYeti, I know I felt the same way. It made me so happy. But like you, I'm eager to ehar our Stacey's response. Please don't blow it.

  21. Liz, yep I'm in line with you too. Who'd play them do you think?

  22. Pete Kent - yep you said it alright - very funny :)

  23. Chris Dixon, universal truisms? I wonder what they are.

    1: Love is painful?
    2: Never say no to a coffee?

  24. Yep dear Hiranga (and catfink) Boom Shakala indeed.

  25. John O, oh no don't do that to yourself. :)

  26. Miss Holly, whata comment - thank yoi. And it's true he's truly waiting in the wings with poisoned rapier on hand. Don't fall dear dom.

  27. Cindy, what a true comment - Stacey do not fuck this up!

  28. Andy and maybe moves to standing ovation? Or am I pushing it?

  29. Jamie, and move to standing ovation with me and Andy.

    (Now I think I'm really pushing it)

  30. Beautifail, I so want to read more of your thoughts. They're always enlightening.

  31. Anon (1:00PM) I love this going to the movuies thing - so we have four locked in?

  32. Lance you take my breath away witha returned comment. And you know it.

  33. Chris, your post made me happy - I am so glad you're at the end. Tome is proviong to be your friend, hey buddy?

  34. Steph T, another cinema buddy - yeaahhhh
    (and yes you were right all along)

  35. Anons - I love this song - thank you for sharing - indeed romantic playlists anyone? Please include favourites--

  36. Anon (11q:54) No, it's never too late - please don't say that :(

  37. Anon (12:34) Now there's an image--

  38. And now, it gets real.

  39. Whew. I've come down. I can think.
    I'm kind of worried for Dom right now. I'm excited that he's finally taken that step but part of me fears something bad.
    I just don't like the idea of him being hurt by Stacey again. Since the first email, I've been rooting for his happiness whether it be with Stacey, Elsa, or just by himself. He's just so vulnerable right now. The idea that she could respond unfavorably makes me uneasy. The fact that it's gone on this long without any solid positive responses from her is enough to make me nervous.
    If she hurts him, I'll be pitching an old school hissy right in her direction.

  40. I'll be your relief pitcher if you get tired beautifail, and yeah, Stephen time seems to be on my side, although tome may be too, haven't met him (or her) though :-)

  41. Wow!
    I got pointed to this blog the other day. It's been a real luxury reading a few pages at a time (or 50, late at night). And then he drops this bomb, and perhaps more than any other post I want to see what comes next -
    So I scroll to the bottom, and there's no 'Newer Post' button!

    My whole face just screwed up, imploded on itself. I've caught up!

    "The horror! The horror..."

  42. lol @ jack

    ok so finally im gonna say my piece -- im waiting for tomorrow. yes and im not ashamed to admit it. i am living in denial, i will not respond till i read stacey's response... please don't let her break our hearts...


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