There Won't Be Blood

Story Sent in by Vanessa:

Thomas and I met at a business technology convention, and it turned out that we didn't live too far away from each other (just over an hour, by car). We remained in touch, and it ultimately led to a date, then another, and another. He was a bit serious, but full of exciting ideas for things to do, and I had a good time with him.

Imagine my surprise when one day, I found a handwritten letter from him in my mail. It was a simple, short, thoughtful note, written in red ink. I called him that evening to thank him for the gesture.

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, "I wrote it in blood."

I didn't say anything for quite a while, as my emotions went from shock to fear back to shock to confusion and once again to shock. He was content to wait patiently over the silence. I finally stammered out, "Why blood?"

"It's the original ink," he said, "Things have been written in it hundreds of years ago that you can still read, today."

"Is it... your blood?"

He laughed. "No, no, no, no. Would you have preferred that?"

"No! I... I guess it depends on whose you... used..."

"It's not from a person. Don't worry. Nothing died for it that wasn't already dead."

Suddenly, my wits returned to me. I half-shouted, "You seriously sent me something written in blood? Do you have any idea how messed up that is?"

"I thought it was romantic. The poets of old–"

"You're not a poet of old!"

That shut him up for a good few seconds. Then, he said, "I'd consider it the biggest compliment in the world if you wrote me something in blood."

"A positive affirmation isn't preferable to a bodily fluid?"

"If the positive affirmation was written in the bodily fluid, and not just any bodily fluid, but blood–"

"Thomas, I have to think about... I have to go and... I'll call you. Bye." I hung up, which maybe was too abrupt on my part, but I couldn't really take the fact that he had written me a letter in the blood of something. I never ended up calling him back, and he never called me. I feel a bit bad about how things ended, but I'm just not the kind of person to fall all over a guy for such a gesture, whether or not the poets of old did it.