An Englishman in New England

Hi

I know, I know. I haven't called. I didn't write. We had a fantastic time together - don't scoff, I really mean it - we had a fantastic time together and then, I just, just disappeared. It must have looked like I didn't care, or that what we shared meant nothing to me. That's so far from the truth.

You see, I was ashamed. No, no, let me finish, I have to tell you this. I was ashamed of the lie that I and your astigmatism allowed you to believe - you never questioned it, and all the while I was telling myself that you didn't deserve to live with such a pretense. You're so kind, and such a great companion. You were understanding about the diarrhoea incident, and you never mentioned a word about the flies, or the poaching attempt when we were out to dinner that one time. You defended me in Chinatown. You were the picture of compassion when I wrecked your jeep with my bare hands in what was, in hindsight, a hilarious misunderstanding involving my limited perpheral vision, and innate distrust of moving objects of considerable size. I've since gotten my contacts adjusted, and vehicles don't befuddle me as much now.

You made me feel special, and I wanted to give you everything you dreamed of in a companion. That's why I was afraid to tell you about me, the real me, the me that was watching you enjoy my company from afar, and whose heart ached to tell you the truth that I am not the sophisticated debonair you thought I was. I'm not your prince charming.

I am a rhinocerous.

I know, it's hard to believe - my class, my elegance, my knowledge of fine wines; all my own. My parents live in the savannah out in west Africa. I was there when I told you I was leaving to go distribute aid to the third world with my inherited millions. The truth is, for the 6 months that we've been apart, I just sat there, eating long grass, taking mudbath after mudbath, and trying to make my aching heart forget about you.

But I couldn't do it. I'm truly sorry for what I did. And so now, here I stand, in your doorway, asking you to forgive me, and take me in.

Before Animal Control gets here, if possible, and I get darted, tagged, and released into the wild.