Towards the end of Henry and June, Anaïs Nin shares a love letter from Henry Miller in August 1932. In it he writes:
When you return I am going to give you one literary fuck fest — that means fucking and talking and talking and fucking. Anaïs, I am going to open your very groins. God forgive me if this letter is ever opened by mistake. I can’t help it. I want you. I love you. You’re food and drink to me, the whole bloody machinery as it were.
Isn’t that sweet? He continues later on,
I love you as you are. I love your loins, the golden pallor, the slope of your buttocks, the warmth inside you, the juices of you. Anaïs, I love your so much, so much!
If a guy every writes anything like this to me, I would just cry and be putty in his arms. I got really jealous reading this. I also get really jealous when I see friends receiving dirty pictures on their phones.
Oh romance. Où est le mien?