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The day I won Megan’s heart with an angry letter.

Previously on Legends of JRP:

Jason R. Peters: You’re very beautiful.

–September 4, 2003 (Jason’s 23rd birthday). First words to Megan Lecus. (I also claimed it was my fortieth birthday.)

JRP: Dibs.
Jake: Dammit!

–Early September, 2003

Brian: You should date Megan. You guys get along amazingly.

–Mid September, 2003; Megan’s boyfriend at the time.

Daniel: After you and Brian break up, you have to date Jason R. Peters. Promise me.
Megan: Sure. I promise.
Eric: After you break up with Jason, you should go out with me.
Daniel: Megan and Jason will never break up, though.

–Late September, 2003

Megan: I can’t go out with you.

–October 6, 2003

Writers write. It’s baked into our being. If you can just not write, you’re probably not a writer. I’ve never had enough control to not write.

I write when I’m happy, inspired, elated. I write to capture those feelings, share with the world. I write when I’m angry, sad, depressed. I write as therapy. I write to figure things out. Muddle through.

I also write to convince people. It’s my career: Work instructions to improve processes. Training guides. Proposals to secure funds, sometimes in the millions.

On October 7th, 2003, I wrote the most important document of my life: A letter to Megan.

I’d written many letters to girls. Usually, I used writing to confess attraction. (It never worked.) I know it’s cowardly, but I’m comparatively inarticulate in person. I fumble to express myself; I have foot-in-mouth disease. Hypoglycemia and social anxiety. OCPD.

Do you know how hard it is to have a normal conversation when you’re in cold sweat? Try asking a girl out on top of that. Or even confessing that she’s cute.

No, no. Face-to-face confrontations do not suit me.

Despite that, with Megan, I’d confessed all my attraction in person. My first words to her were that she’s beautiful. I’d been as charming as I knew how to be. If all my efforts could not win this girl, the only one who mattered, I was done. For good. Not just bacheloring for the savings and the freedom, but well and truly finished with women.

There was one thing I hadn’t tried. I had never written to Megan. For her. About her. I had good reasons; I’d been called out for love letters and not-quite-love-letters before. It’s tired and overplayed for introverts, especially sensitive, artistic types. I’d learned my lesson.

All my options were gone. My friends had rallied, and it didn’t work. I’d impressed her every way I could, and it didn’t work. I gave her time and space after her breakup, and it didn’t work. I’d played piano, dedicated songs on the radio, made daring Frisbee plays, landed a job, had an apartment, and went dancing with her every week.

It. Did. Not. Work.

Finally, I wrote a letter. Not the sappy, “I love you” kind. Not the half-assed “you’re cute” kind.

I wrote an angry letter. What one of my exes called “a JRP letter,” because hell hath no fury like JRP behind a Word Processor. It was short by my standards, just four pages.

I titled the letter, “Foundations of Stone.” I took the name from the first chapter of The Two Towers DVD, the scene where Gandalf battles the Balrog from Morgoth below the depths of Moria. The battle for Megan’s heart was just as epic.

I should note that while I was harsh to Brian in the letter, his next relationship was anything but superficial. He married his next girlfriend the same day I married Megan, is still married and they have a beautiful little girl. They’ll celebrate their fifth anniversary tomorrow, same as us.

Guess he knew what he was doing after all.

I still have the letter. Would you like to see it? The document that convinced Megan I was the man for her, that she should not only date me, but spend the rest of her life with me?

I thought you might. (Continued next page…)

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