Free Milky Coffee and Office Gossip by Liza Kay

his geeky lover had had the guts to brush him off.
    Not knowing what to expect, he’d cried himself into sleep for three days. When that hadn’t cured his heartsickness, he’d watched Dirty Dancing three days in a row and eaten his own weight in ice-cream. Denial had been the next step. Corey had cleaned his whole house, listening to hard rock and trying to convince himself that he’d never been in love with the sexy fucker anyway. The cleaning phase had lasted two days. Then, Saturday and Sunday, he’d curled up in his bed, and quite pathetically, sniffed his pillows to enjoy the last traces of Remy’s scent.
    Now, on Monday, he felt ten years older and like something the cat had retched up. Oh, he looked that way, too. Corey guessed he looked even dumber when he opened the door to his office. Somehow, somebody had left him a present on his desk, although he always locked his office in the evening.
    A beautiful peppermint plant in a bronzed pot sat on his desk. A cream envelope with his handwritten name leaned against it. What the hell?
    With trembling fingers, Corey first touched the little green peppermint leaves, then grabbed the envelope. He opened it and found, again handwritten, a letter. Who sent handwritten letters nowadays? Just reading the first line made him sob like the basket case he was.
     
    My dear Corey,
    Peppermint means Please forgive me in the language of flowers. I know how much you love flowers. So I thought it a fitting arrangement to bring my point across.
    I promised to woo you and chose the wonderful, old-fashioned way of a love letter. Back in time, a love letter helped two people get to know each other. Sometimes they spent weeks and months writing letters before they met for the first time. A skillfully written love letter could win the heart of another person and result in a happy marriage.
    Our relationship, no matter what label we want to put on it, started as a connection of two bodies. Not old-fashioned at all. I guess it’s the missing connection of our hearts that led you to breaking off with me. Let me tell you, it’s not missing at all. I just have some serious hang-ups, so please allow me to deepen our connection by writing you those letters.
    You accused me of being too secretive and unwilling to communicate my feelings. You’re right. I’m sorry and I want to change my behavior because now I see how much it hurt you. With every new day, I plan to show you exactly what I feel. Not only for you, but in general. Each day will bring another little gift so you can get to know me better.
    You need to know, I’m a stubborn and determined guy. And I fight to win. You’re the one I long to win. You and your heart. So no, it’s not over.
    I say it again. Please forgive me for not telling you that you mean more to me than casual sex. For not telling you it’s been more than an affair for me. For taking your affection and tenderness for granted. For not giving you what you deserve. Honesty.
    This isn’t an excuse, but an explanation. I never learned how to express my feelings properly. My mother left without looking back when I was ten because she couldn’t live with my father’s affairs any longer. My father was never what you’d call dad of the year. He demanded obedience and performance, was proud of me succeeding in law school, but cut me off when I told him I was gay. I haven’t seen him since the day he told me to turn straight or leave his house.
    Since then, I’ve felt lost. The job held me together and no man I’ve met affected me enough to wish for more than a quick romp. I wanted to hold everybody at arm’s length so nobody could hurt me.
    Everything changed the day a cute, shy accountant soaked me in cold coffee. A man, whose gentle and caring heart is even more stunning than the obvious beauty of his face. A man, who managed to wrap me around his little finger in only five weeks and turned my world upside down. Not something I would’ve enjoyed in the past. Now,