Dear Luke,

I know you are called Luke because you work on the 3rd floor and they made you guys wear name tags on that team building day you did.

I once accidentally swiped left on you when I was on Tinder and I’ve regretted it ever since. I often confuse my left and right and I rue the day I didn’t stop to check one from the other. I liked you when I first saw you in the office and I liked you on Tinder. I still like you.

You seem pretty fashionable and I’m a little intimidated by that, so I’ve not been able to ask you on a date apart from in my head. And I did that.

I asked you on a date in my head and pretend-you said yes. This confirmed what I always believed; you are a kind-hearted guy who can see the potential in me.

Ever since that heady day in my cranium we have been a couple. A fully-blown, head-over-heels-in-love, imaginary couple. I love you and I also imagine that you love me. I’m sure you must feel good about yourself knowing that my created version of you is so kind.

I need you to know some of the amazing things we have fictionally done together over the last 18 months of utter joy.

Our first date was both touching and hilarious. You weren’t entirely comfortable with my choice of location but once you sampled the tarragon potato chips at the bar, you slowly warmed to the place. “Tarragon? On a potato chip?” We laughed. We have laughed so, so much.

After a few more dates it became clear that we have so much in common. What with my love of travel and the love of architecture I’m sure you have, it made sense for us to take a trip to Europe. Even though you fell ill in Paris with an undiagnosed, pre-existing condition that I dreamt up for you, it was still the trip of a lifetime. The French health- care system is quite fantastic and, if anything, it’s probably best that your heart’s irregular rhythms were discovered by the paramedics when you collapsed half way up Montmartre.

As time has gone on, we bought a dog called Monty who, while also imaginary, is based on a Pomeranian that I regularly see on my walk to the gym. Monty has been living partly in my house and partly in your apartment (I see you as an apartment sort of guy).

A couple of months ago I had a dream where we rode a unicorn and you had a samovar of coffee with you which, with hindsight, was a ridiculous item to take on a unicorn ride but it was so you, what with your caffeine addiction (I saw you with a Starbucks cup once, which seems irresponsible given your heart condition). Obviously the imaginary version of you that I’ve created doesn’t remember this because I didn’t consciously imagine the unicorn ride; it was in a dream.

You get the difference, right? If not, watch the movie Inception.

So why am I writing this now? Well Luke, after 18 months of mentally visualised love and tenderness, your fictional heart condition got worse and the pretend-you died.

I’ve not been able to tell my friends and colleagues about how much I’ve cried because the grief is too great, and also because no one has actually died.

I need you to know how wonderful the image I created of you was. Imaginary-Luke was a decent, intelligent, warm-hearted guy. A heart that was warm despite severe tachycardia.

Also, if you want to grab coffee sometime, I know a really good independent coffee shop. It would be so good to get to know the real you as I feel like I’m ready to start dating again.

If all of this sounds fun, please come to floor seven and ask for Nathan.

Yours sincerely,

Nathan Gallacher
Creative Solutions Dept


Will you tweet or share this article? Circle YES/NO.

Join other PIC writers in a comedy class at The Second City online (10% off), or subscribe to our newsletter for all-new articles (100% free).