Dear,

I'm not going to write an address, or a recipient. Because I'm not going to mail it. It's just that Charlie's finally told me about writing to his friend, so that he could feel like someone was always listening. Someone was willing to listen and make him matter.

The reason I'm writing this at all is because I want to write down what happened after Charlie told me. Because we had sex for the first time. And I feel like that deserved to be recorded down, like legend. I'm writing this for the same reason Charlie writes to his friend. Because this matters.

It was great. It was sweet and perfect and it mattered. Even though he was younger and I've had more experience, it was like I was preparing myself my whole life for this. My whole life so far, anyway. It wasn't like none of the guys before Charlie meant anything, because I'm not like that and no one deserves that. They prepared me for Charlie because after so many horrible experiences – all the Craigs, and Harrys, and Bens and the dad's bosses – it's only made the experience with Charlie so much sweeter.

We had never meant for it to happen; we were just sitting under the stars on a blanket. We were talking, which lead to him talking about his friend, and then he cried. But it was okay, because he was apologizing about not being able to make love to me, because he didn't want to spoil it by having the mental block again. But he stopped when I kissed him, and after a while under the stars he offered to try. I asked him if he was ready, and he didn't say anything, so I slid my hand over his leg, over his pants. He told me to keep going, so I did. He was soft when we started, but the night air was warm, so taking off our clothes wasn't difficult or uncomfortable.

After what I've been through, I always have a condom in my bag, so when he stopped and blushed and murmured that he didn't have one, I felt really good because I could take care of him. He then told me he had masturbated lots before, just out of the blue, which made the mood funny instead of intimate, but it was okay because it was with Charlie and that's all it mattered.

Then our lips parted and we moved them to other parts of our body like our necks and shoulders, and he turned hard and I turned soft. It wasn't painful at all, but that might've been because it was Charlie inside me and it felt so right. But after a little while, I started crying. I told him I was sorry if I didn't feel good, because there have been lots of people who've had me before and I wasn't really new anymore. But Charlie kissed my skin and told me it was okay because it was me and new or not it was still me he was making love to.

There was no orgasm or anything like that, because it was slow and mellow, like the muted waves that lap at the sides of a swimming pool long after you jump into the water. But that didn't change the fact that it mattered, and it was Charlie. Eventually we both grew tired and we just laid on the blanket with our clothes lain over us and the stars lain over us.

He told me I was beautiful and perfect and that he was never going to have sex with me, and only make love, because that's what I deserved. He did ask me if it was okay that it was also because he liked making love better even though he had never had sex, and I replied ,"Of course."

So I'm writing this because I want to know that this exists, because I'm afraid that when we're all gone it will be forgotten. And this making love with Charlie should never be forgotten.

Because it matters.

Love always,

Sam