Letters from great women to their men. Letter from a man to women

HELLO, DEAR!

I know that you are on a business trip, but I have been visiting the site for several days and your page hangs there as if you are still in touch. So, after our last night on the Internet, you left on a business trip hastily, just as you were afraid to leave - in one slipper, and all because of me. And I still haven’t turned off the computer. Or maybe he didn’t turn it off on purpose?
So, after all, you felt good with me.

Why am I writing to you? Yes, I just wanted to talk to you. Moreover, as always, you don’t see me, and now you don’t even hear me. You've been away for four days and I'm talking to your computer.

I don’t know and don’t want to know if I’m your first Internet woman, these questions don’t bother me much and real life, - although I am not corrupt, I am not innocent and not a prude. I am not completely virtual, let’s say, but an ordinary woman, made of flesh and blood.
I want to make you happy right away and I confess - you are my first and you will be my only virtual man. The one and only. I don’t know how long our relationship will last and what it will lead to, only God or the devil knows.

If only recently someone had told me that this was possible, I would have laughed or twirled my finger at my temple. The reality of the Internet intervened in my already complicated life in the most decisive way when I received your first letter. It was wary enough and gentle enough that I, new to the internet, took the bait. I was not surprised by the fact that I received the letter. It seems to me that it would even be strange if out of the thousands of men on the site, not one of them honored me with their attention.
Can you imagine how scary it would be to live after this silent insult to my lonely feminine dignity?

The beginning was made by you, what most pleased me in your letters and alarmed me at the same time was your indifference. It seemed to me that you didn’t care at all what my thoughts were, what I breathed, how I lived. You immediately guessed my feminine essence, understanding by instinct or experience that a woman always needs male attention and male affection. You so skillfully tempted me with many letters that, without even noticing it myself, I began to melt, like that snow woman in the spring.
And I melted.

I never thought this could happen. You don't see and you never will see virtual woman, but her gratitude for your choice and her willingness to surrender herself not just to the first person she meets, but to the person she meets, looking at the very bottom of her eyes with extraordinary love, is amazing! It seems to me that the power of temptation is enhanced by a magical black blindfold with the Internet brand. "Made in Internet".

And everything was between us! There was passion, there were rambling speeches, when we interrupted each other with our letters, rushing to lay out our most cherished dreams. And not a single dream remained unfulfilled. There was your unimaginable tenderness, there was also my embarrassed and happy smile, hidden on your shoulder. I was very happy with you. Flying in the skies is not always possible for everyone and in real life.

And even though I know that we will never see each other, even though I don’t know if we will fly together again, but I am always waiting for you.
And know that you are the most wonderful! Thank you, dear.

Lyrheroine's Note:

For me, a realist, sober in everyday situations to the core, it remains incomprehensible that I do not consider all this either perversion or a hint of pornography.

The female conviction that men are to blame for all your troubles and problems is not based on common sense, but on vulgar egoism. By scolding men for weakness, consumerism, failure, inattention, and so on, women try to assert themselves at our, male expense. You forget the most important thing - having taken up men's games, doing things unusual for women, you cannot count on being treated as weak and defenseless. In other words - “take up the tug, don’t say it’s not strong.”

In fact, it is funny and absurd to read poetry, give flowers and sing serenades to a woman who smokes like a steam locomotive, drinks like a binder and swears (if she can still be called a woman at all). And it’s not even a matter of the external manifestation of these qualities, but of internal assertiveness, the constant desire to gain the upper hand, to prove, to decide, to assert one’s “I.” At the same time, there is no hiding the feeling of one’s own superiority and disdain for men in general and for an individual representative in particular.

You women no longer feel like beautiful representatives of the fairer sex. And there is no need to prove that you became like this because of us or life’s difficulties. Yes, life turns out differently for men, but nothing humiliates and undermines us as much as you do!

When a wife stops believing in her husband and reproaches him for being dependent, she gives up. And when this is done in front of children, whose respect and love turns into disdain, it is not surprising that the number of alcoholics is growing every day. And you are pushing us to do this! You have stopped feeling sorry, empathizing, tolerating and understanding! You need everything now, preferably in hard currency!

Obsessed with female psychology and putting it at the forefront of all your conclusions and conclusions, you are too lazy to read and understand male psychology, because then your conclusions and fiery speeches will turn into an example of feminist chatter.

But the worst thing is that you are raising your children in precisely this philosophy of life. Teach your daughters in advance to disdain and not trust men, and make your sons infantile and dependent on women from childhood! Stop, because you are ruining their lives and dooming yourself to a terrible, lonely old age.

Maybe I exaggerated, but, honestly, it hurt! From all sides you only hear about the worthlessness of men on the one hand and accusations of inattention and misunderstanding on the other.

You have to pay for everything! And you, women, are paying for your own indomitable craving for superiority. You need to protect those who need protection, help those who cannot cope, give flowers to those who are able to appreciate, and love those who are worthy of love! Women's cynicism is worse than men's. Look at yourself. Look objectively!

I don’t hope that ALL women will hear and understand my words, but maybe at least one of you will think about it??!!

And I wanted to compare what great women wrote to their men. What I found made me think that in the letters of great women to their men there is much more reflection than sexual languor. This is especially evident in the letter of George Sand Pagelo. I wonder if she wrote to him in his language or in her own? It’s just that, if he had his way, poor Pagelo could have developed a stupor from the abundance of her subtle questions. And I was also struck by Clara Wieck’s letter to Schumann - the girl is only 17 years old...

George Sand to Dr. Pagello.

For us, born under different skies, not only our thoughts, but also our very language are different, but are our hearts at least the same? The humid and damp air of my homeland has left its melancholic and necessary mark on me, but what passions has the noble sun, which has gilded your forehead, given you? I know what it means to love and suffer - but what is your concept of love? Your fiery gaze, your crazy embrace, your daring desires captivate me and at the same time inspire me with fear. I can neither overcome your passion nor share it. In my country they don’t love like that - next to you I seem like a pale statue, I look at you with amazement, desire and anxiety. I don't know - do you really love me? And I will never know. You can barely babble a few words in my language, and I don’t know yours enough to offer you such subtle questions. Maybe you will never understand me, even if I thoroughly studied your language of the place where we lived, the people who raised us are to blame for the fact that undoubtedly our thoughts, feelings and needs make us strangers to each other. My weak nature and your fiery temperament should give rise to completely different ideas. Thousands of small sorrows to which I am subject do not exist for you; you probably laugh at what I cry at. Or perhaps you don’t know tears at all?

Will I find in you a comrade or a ruler? Will you console me for the suffering that I endured before I met you on my life path? Will you know why I'm sad? Do you know compassion, patience and friendship? Maybe you were raised to believe that women have no souls? Are you sure they have a soul? You are not a Christian, but you are not a Muslim, neither cultured nor wild man, and anyway, what kind of person are you? What is hidden behind this arrogantly protruded chest, behind this lion's gaze, behind this regal forehead? Do pure, noble thoughts, brotherly and sublime feelings visit you? Do you rise to heaven, at least in a dream, in a dream? Do you trust in God when people do you harm? Will I be your friend or your slave? Do you want me or do you really love me? Will you be able to be noble when your passion subsides? Will you be able to reflect happiness when I give it to you? Do you know me, does this ignorance bother you? Do I seem to you like something unknown, something people dream about and dream about, or am I in your eyes just a woman, like those who vegetate in harems? Doesn't your gaze, in which I felt like a celestial ray, reflect the desire satisfied by these women? Do you know the need of the soul, which time does not lull and human caresses are powerless to tire? When I see you calm, will I be able to discern whether you are thinking or resting? When your gaze clouds over, is it a sign of tenderness or simply fatigue? I don’t know - neither your past, nor your character, I don’t know what people who know you think about you. I love you without knowing if I can respect you. I love you because I like you, maybe soon I will be forced to hate you. If you were a man of my country, I would torture you and you would understand me. But perhaps I would be even more unhappy, because you would deceive me. At least you won’t deceive me, you won’t give me empty promises or false oaths. You will love me as you understand love and as you know how to love. What I sought in vain in others, I probably will not find in you, but let me believe that it was in you. You will allow me to interpret in my own way, without any admixture of false words, glances and caresses, which have so often deceived me. I will eloquently interpret your dreams and your silence. I will attribute to your actions the interpretation that I would like. When you are gentle with me, I will think that your soul is turning to mine; when you look at the sky, I will think that your spirit strives for the eternal crucible from which it comes. So let us remain as we are, without resorting to learning our languages. I don’t want to know what you make of your life and what role you play among people. She hides her soul from me so that I can always imagine her as beautiful!

Isadora Duncan to Gordon Craig

My dear - -
I don't like it at all. All these important officials are staring at me in the most scary way. There is a lady near the fireplace, it is simply written on her face that she does not approve of me. I'm almost scared. This is not a place for a person with such a light and joyful character as mine. The hall looks like a scene from a novel, the very room in which intrigues are woven and intrigues are built.
All night the train did not fly, but barely trudged centimeter by centimeter across large snow-covered fields, endless white plains, across vast kingdoms covered with snow (Walt Whitman could have described them perfectly) and the moon shone above all of this. Outside the window there is a whirlwind of sparks from the locomotive - it's really worth seeing. I lay there, peering into the night, and thought about you, about you alone, the best and most dear.
The city is covered with snow and sleighs are rushing through it. Everything and everyone here slides. I sent you many small letters while I was on the road, I hope you received them.
Now I have to go. I need to wash off the soot and have breakfast.
Give my love to dear number 11 and that little musty house number 6. My heart is filled with the most banal and old-fashioned love for you, my dear.
Write to me and tell me everything, I'm going to splash around.

Yours Isadora.

Empress Catherine II - Potemkin

My dear friend, Prince Grigory Alexandrovich.
It’s not for nothing that I love you and favor you, you completely justify my choice and my thoughts about you; You are by no means a braggart, and you fulfilled all the assumptions, and taught the Tsars’ men to defeat the Turks; God helps and blesses you, cover you with glory, I am sending you the laurel crown that you deserve (but it is not ready yet); Now, my friend, I ask you, do not be arrogant, do not be proud, but show the world the greatness of your soul, which is as non-arrogant in happiness as it is not despondent in failure. Il n"y a pas de douceur mon ami que je ne voudrais vous dire: Vous etes charmant d"avoir pris Benders sans qu"il en aye coute un seul homme.

Your diligence and work would increase my gratitude if it were not already such that it could no longer increase. I ask God to strengthen your strength; I was very worried about your illness, however, having not had letters from you for more than two weeks, I thought that I was messing around around Bendery, or started peace negotiations. Now I see that my guess was not without foundation. I will be impatiently awaiting Popov's arrival; rest assured that I will do everything possible for the generals entrusted to your army, evenly for the troops: their labors and zeal deserve it. As soon as I receive the promised note about the Caesar’s awards, then I’ll gallop to you and mine.

I am curious to see the letters of the Volos ruler and the former captain-pasha about the truce and your answers; all this already has the smell of the world, and is therefore not disgusting. The plan for Poland, as soon as I receive it, I will consider it and will leave you with a decisive answer as soon as possible. In Finland, it is extremely necessary to change the boss; you cannot rely on the current one for anything; I myself was forced to send salt from here to Neishlot, because people are without salt in the fortress; I ordered the meat to be given to the people, and he delivered the meat to Vyborg, where the meat rotted without use; will not decide on anything; in a word, he is incapable of leadership, and under him the generals play pranks and intrigue, but don’t do things when it’s appropriate; From this you can judge how many changes need to be made there. I granted the young man you sent me a colonel and adjutantship for the good news.

L"enfant* trouve que Vous avez plus d"esprit et que Vous etes plus amusant et plus aimable, que tous ceux qui Vous entourent; mais sur cegi gardez nous le secret car il ignore que je sais cela; they are extremely grateful for your very affectionate reception; Their brother Dimitri marries Vyazemsky’s third daughter.
Abieu mon cher Ami, portez vous bien.

Josephine to Napoleon

It is not about the loss of the throne that I allow myself to express my sympathy to you; By own experience I know that I can come to terms with this; but most of all I grieve for the grief that parting with your old companions in glory brought you.
Oh! How willingly I would fly to you to prove to you that exile can scare away only a small soul, and that misfortune not only did not diminish my selfless affection, but gave it even new strength.
I intended to leave France, to follow you, to devote the rest of my life to you, which you were spared for so long. There was only one reason that held me back, and you can guess it.
When I find out that I, contrary to all odds, am the only one who wants to fulfill my duty - nothing can stop me, and I go to the only place on earth where from now on I can be happy, for there I can comfort you - who are alone in misfortune. Farewell, Sir, everything that I could add will seem unnecessary; Now you need to prove your attitude to you not in words, but in deeds. I need your consent.

E. S. Norova - P. Ya. Chaadaev

(Circa 1830).
It’s already late, I sat for a long time over this long letter, and now, before sending it, it seems to me that it would be better to tear it up. But I don’t want to avoid writing to you today, I don’t want to deny myself the pleasure of wishing you a Merry Christmas to our Savior Jesus Christ and a Happy New Year.
Will it seem strange and unusual to you that I want to ask for your blessing? I often have this desire, and it seems that if I decided to do this, I would be so pleased to accept it from you, kneeling, with all the reverence that I have for you. Do not be surprised and do not renounce my deep reverence - you have no power to reduce it in me. Bless me for the coming year, no matter whether it will be the last in my life, or many more will follow. For myself, I invoke all the blessings of the Almighty upon you. Yes, bless me - I mentally kneel before you - and ask God for me to make me what I should be.

Clara Wieck to Robert Schumann

Are you only asking me for a simple yes? Such a tiny word, and so important? But really, a heart full of inexpressible love, like mine, should not utter this word with all its soul? This is what I do, and my soul whispers an eternal “yes” to you.
The suffering of my heart, countless tears - can I express it all - Oh, no! Perhaps fate will want us to finally meet and talk to each other - your preference seems dangerous to me, but a loving heart does not pay attention to the dangers. So, I repeat “yes”! Does the Lord really want to turn my eighteenth birthday into a day of sadness? Oh no, that would be too cruel! I also felt for a long time “that this must happen,” nothing in the world will deceive me, and I will prove to my father that even a young (heart) can be persistent.

Mar. 24th, 2012 at 1:41 PM

The other day I had a candid conversation with a childhood friend. He called from the capital late at night to “complain about life”: his next relationship with a woman ended with her turning off all phones and refusing to communicate with him. A merry fellow, a jokester, a pleasant-looking 45-year-old successful business man breathed in confusion into the phone, sniffling resentfully: “I’m serious about her!.. But we’re not children!... Well, yes, I wanted sex with her, but What can we do without him? Who builds a relationship without sex? Why should I pretend to be an idiot with little need?... And she shows off like a girl, “I’m not like that, I’m waiting for the tram”!... Ksyu, how can I understand you women? "After a conversation with I walked around with him all evening and mentally seemed to continue the dialogue... And then I decided to write this letter to him. I think it will help many “adult-age” men understand their mistakes (so obvious to women). It would seem that everything is simple... But in my practice, I again and again encounter the same mistake of some men." mature age"...And I understand that what may be excusable for youngsters is perceived as shocking by a mature man!
I hope this open letter will help them understand their mistake in relationships with women. The text contains profanity, but... you can’t remove the words from the song;))) I apologize for my “bad French”!

Hello! For some reason, I can’t get my conversation with you yesterday out of my head.

I’m mentally replaying some dialogues with you, and therefore I decided to put everything in a letter.

I think you behave wrongly with women. And if you don’t realize this, then you will step on the same rake again and again.

As far as I know you, you are very sentimental and a kind person. You are caring in your own way, you want to make everyone around you happy! :) But you cover up your sincerity (at least in relationships with women) with bravado and cavalry pressure, hussar jokes in the style of Rzhevsky and sentences “Madam, let me show you off!” For what? Why? I don’t know... Perhaps there were episodes in your life when some young lady (or even mother) did not understand or appreciate you... And this is where such feigned cynicism comes from... I immediately caught it in my communication with you even when we met in Moscow then for the first time 25 years after school graduation...

But I'm a psychologist. And therefore I can understand the motives for such male behavior. But many women sometimes cannot understand their feelings... how can they understand men’s “twists”? Hence the conclusion:
(Collapse)

With cavalry attacks you have a chance to attract into your life an exceptionally marketable bazaar woman who will perceive you adequately and innocently, she herself will make the same soldierly joke, and - after making friends with you - she will drag you into bed to fuck... Do you want one? I doubt it... Finding one is as easy as shelling pears, I think. You are drawn to others.

An adequate single woman (especially in our age category) perceives a man primarily by how COMFORTABLE she will be with him. Not a day, not two - but for a long time... maybe for the rest of our lives... And the older we get, the more we want harmony and comfort. Agree.

Both men and women of our age category, looking at themselves in the mirror in the morning, sadly state the fact of aging of our body. And although our soul, perhaps at 45 years old, is still the same “berry”, the body noticeably betrays itself. Therefore, when a mature man invites a mature woman to go to bed on the first (second or even third) date... without having had time to get to know each other properly... this, to put it mildly, leads to some embarrassment (to put it mildly, I repeat). Because I no longer want sex as much as I want harmony and comfort. And this is in no way a contradiction!!! You can tumble in bed like little kids - for days... but at the same time you really want to wake up with the same man in the morning... and even live together... more than once or twice... At our age, you already think not so much about the quality of sex, but about what quality of life is it? And who will we have to grow old with next to...

The differences between women and men are that a man can only fall in love with the woman who initially arouses his sexual appetite! And a woman can sexually lust after a man exclusively AFTER she has fallen in love with his certain human qualities... Do you catch the difference?

Men: SEX --> LOVE

Women: LOVE --> SEX

And never otherwise! If otherwise, then there are no feelings at all. But there are either complexes, or naked calculations, or a drunken head... And do you know why such a situation is important for both sides? Because both men and women are afraid of defeat! A man is afraid that he will not be at his best in bed later, and therefore it is important for him to check this right away, to make sure of some kind of guarantee of his success (like if it doesn’t work out, then he won’t build a relationship)... And a woman is afraid that a man will will turn out to be unreliable and will leave her after sex, which is why it is so important for her to check many human qualities in her chosen one so that she can count on a long-term harmonious relationship...

Both men and women often lie to themselves and to each other... The one who is more cunning wins this game. If an alliance with a man is important to a woman, she will agree to sex and then use all sorts of tricks to keep the man near her constantly. If the union is more important for a man, he patiently “hills up” this flowerbed, in the hope of sooner or later plucking the most from it. beautiful flower. But both fall into traps :)

What am I talking about?

If you really want to build a long-term relationship with a worthy woman, then you still need to restrain your cavalry habits. Trust me! Do not rush things. Sometimes it’s really easier to hire a call girl than to mess with a decent woman! If you are so much concerned about the contents of your scrotum, and not what a woman will think of you.

At 45 years old, a normal woman cannot be surprised by any penis, believe me! And for some reason, some men think that their penis is almost the only thing they can offer to their beloved. Alas... just as there are a lot of long-legged pussies around, there are a lot of fuckers around (sorry). Both of them, unfortunately, have one common drawback: they suffer from the lack of brains that you value so much...

Answer yourself: what else, besides your penis and an important deputy title, can you offer a worthy woman (smart, self-sufficient, pretty, sexy and able to take care of her man)? And if you answer in more than one or two words, then there is a chance to arrange your personal life. I guarantee you this! Just the next time you meet a woman with whom you want to communicate for more than one evening, try to let her understand that for her you are exactly that “reliable stone wall” that women so often look for. And I’m sure you’ll get EVERYTHING: sexy sex like in your youth, a spectacular girlfriend at social events, and delicious lunches home, and care, and tenderness, and understanding, and even a wise adviser in some matters!

I hug you and sincerely wish you happiness!

Sorry, I couldn’t find a picture of a normal bearded guy on the Internet. I had to call old Che for help - Author

I dream of opening my eyes in the morning - calmly and without worrying whether I managed not to snore today or not.

And even if you snored, to know that you will simply smile and say that you will take another nap while I wash myself and do magic with breakfast.

In response, I will kiss you without brushing my teeth, wherever necessary (op-la!)
I’ll just lean over and touch my lips to the first place I can find on such a tender and dear face to me: on the neck, nose, cheek or corner of the lips.
And you won’t say “Ugh” and won’t get angry at my beard, which has gone in the wrong place again. And again you will smile without opening your eyes and scratch me behind the chin so that I can growl contentedly and go to the bathroom completely happy.

There, first of all, I will indiscriminately shovel into a box all your endless jars of masks, lubricants, lotions and wraps, which are probably very useful, but smell like a bacteriological Apocalypse or the cooking of a crazy old witch.

Today is my day, so my woman will smell the way I want: skin and simple strawberry soap.

Let's move on to water procedures.

In d at now, standing under a stream of boiling water and steam (silk combinations on the dryer, whoever didn’t hide - it’s not my fault), rubbing myself with a washcloth with my favorite sports gel (no, I’m not a victim of advertising, I really like the way it smells!) I am one hundred percent I will soulfully perform the entire repertoire of military songs that I know. I’ll start, of course, with the march of the tankers and continue down the list.

We have enough big flat, so I'm not afraid to wake you up. But if by some wind you find yourself in the kitchen before 11 am, I hope you’ll sing along with me - because you have such a pleasant voice.

With breakfast, everything is also clearer: scrambled eggs on butter with sausages, ketchup and white bread. And the most ordinary tea from a bag. No, it’s not as primitive and stupid as you used to think:

My mother fried eggs in butter, sausages were cooked for breakfast in the Burevestnik pioneer camp, and in my childhood they were accompanied with ketchup and white bread in the old Gorky Park. You see, this food is charged with no less love for me than flaxseed porridge, diet crackers and French low-fat curd cheese.

As for tea, believe me, I actually know how to understand it.
You just don’t know, but once I traveled for several days along the Trans-Siberian Railway in the same compartment with the niece of a Buddhist lama: she was carrying with her a collection of monastery tea and all the way she tried to bewitch me with it. An experienced guide saved me from this misfortune: with cynical male conversations and cheap chifir.
Since then I have really fallen in love with its taste. So stop being angry at this habit of mine, because without it we simply might not have met.

What else do I want to do on this day?

Fry meat in the kitchen so that the smell lingers throughout the house.
Play on yours iPad in the third "Heroes", poking dirty fingers at the screen and loudly calling enemy dragons " evil**whose **day"(someday, perhaps, I will tell you where I learned to swear like that).
Walk around the house half naked and touch furniture in any place.
Burp, sniffle, itch and hold your hands wherever you please.
Squeeze and paw you at any moment, stretching your blouses, breaking the whalebone of your bra cups and putting snags on your priceless tights.
I want to walk half of Moscow with you and kiss in front of everyone on the escalator.
I want our intimacy to become the main event of the evening and to last long, openly and honestly, as the main event of the day, and not a pleasant addition to the evening book.

Darling, believe me, I thought for a long time whether to write this letter or not.
And I realized that if I want to spend eternity with you, I just need to know that someday such a day - Men's Day, if you want - will happen in my life.
And at this moment we will be together, as always.

PS. I also hope that you will tell me then how you can calmly eat live oysters and sentence a lobster from a restaurant aquarium to execution, but at the same time be afraid of the head of a torn off dried roach on the table, because “she’s looking at you”?!