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An Open Letter To A Secret Love

A flash of thigh here, a glimpse of chest there, and a love to last a lifetime

Jamie McDonald/Getty Images

To my secret love,

The Mrs won't be happy. She doesn't know I'm writing to you, let alone the feelings I have harboured yet suppressed for too long. What she does not know is that my heart belongs to another. It belongs to you.

To think, this beautiful affair began some 12 years ago. I was just a boy, I did not know what love was. And I'd be a fool if I said it was love at first sight. If I'm honest, I thought I could do better. You were carrying a bit of timber, but with it came a smile that would melt a million hearts, mine included. Yes, there had been others before, but this...this was something different. Another level. This was for keeps.

Your reputation among others was one not to be envied. "He's dirty, I wouldn't touch him with a bargepole". But I understood you. And you me. You were soon in the shape, and form, of your life. A man's man that took no prisoners. A chest carved out of stone, eyes you could get lost in. Fingers that could be dislocated, but snapped back into place with a fell swoop of your workmanlike hands.

It wasn't until four years after we had met that I knew we were soulmates. The dirtiest of dirty weekends in Bavaria. I'll be honest, I was just happy to be there, I didn't expect anything more. As the balmy afternoon became an enticing November night, and the weissbier went to my head, I started to dream of what ifs. I knew there and then that it was a night I would remember for the rest of my life. And you. Oh you. You made sure it was so.

Like a regiment leader on the battlefield, you led us to to war, a war they said couldn't be won.

You had other ideas.

With that crest adorning your perfectly formed pectoral, defeat was not an option. Opposed by the most fearsome of German generals, Brigadefuhrer Kahn, our rag tag band of mercenaries strode into battle. It appeared as though our worst hopes had been revealed, that our inevitable defeat was nigh. But is was not. In the dying moments, history fell into your hands, or rather your right foot. And when history came knocking, you answered.

A legend was born, a lifelong memory made. And I knew. At that moment. I had fallen for you.

Another four beautiful years passed, and lust became companionship. Another weekend away, this time to the Birmingham riviera - not to see the endless miles of canals, but to watch you lead our troops into battle once more. Again, history beckoned, and the moment presented itself to you. You did your part, sending me into ecstasy from only 12 yards. When the moment came, you were there again. This time, you granted the opportunity to another, using that beautiful head to present the glory to our Korean cavalier.

He delivered, and you sent me to heaven on earth.

Time passed, but emotions did not fade. If anything, they blossomed. You may have aged, your legs might not work like they once did, time may take its toll on your perfectly formed face. This will not strain our bonds of affection. I'll always be the boy that fell head over heels for you.

All that is left to say is this. I wholeheartedly, with every fibre of my mortal being, love you. There were others before, there will be others others in the future, but there will only ever be one. You. Kevin Cyril Davies. You have my heart, and always will. x