09 November 2011


This is what has been on my mind.  It may have pushed me to reaching out to the girl.  It is possible that these thoughts were stirred by her words, because they validate in some ways what I felt, though her experience and way of processing things was and probably is very different to mine.

Although I have beyond zero interest in ever remotely even considering anything further with Mr.Aloof, when I look at old emails, I notice something about myself.  In part, I suppose that I was crazy to put up with the dribbles that he sent me.  But more the intensity that I had when reaching out to him.  The intensity that he, for better or for worse, inspired within me.

It took me a long time to identify it as love.  And then even longer to think that it was something else entirely.

The thing is, although I have dated since Mr.Aloof, and that includes two reasonably timed relationships, one with Heathrow and another with Mr.English, as well as the dalliances with the Git, the Economist, and the Jackrabbit, I have not felt anything close to that intensity for anyone since.  I have also not been in love with anyone since.  I realize these two thoughts are not necessarily linked, but you can see why I might feel inclined to lump them together.

I partner this with a conversation I had recently with some people from my research center where we were talking about our Meyers Briggs and a colleague expressed surprise that I am INTJ.  In particular she thought the 'I' should be an 'E' and I assured here that of all of them, that was probably the most stable and then another colleague piped up that, yes, although you may know me, how much do you really know about me?  Suggesting that although I am social and engaging I am actually somewhat secretive.

Now this is sort of funny because one of the last things I consider myself to be is somewhat secretive.  But I do tend not to blurt out stuff about myself to groups.  Most of my relationships are one to one (hence the 'I') or in smaller intimate groups.  Then I started thinking about this further.  Am I so difficult to get to know?  Am I so unfriendly or uninviting?  And then, because I'm a silly girl, if I'm that hard to get to know, then clearly I'm never going to find a boyfriend.

What was it about Mr.Aloof that encouraged me to open up to him?  Not his reciprocal nature, that's for sure.  I believe in part, it had to do with the total intensity of the brief times we shared together.  When you feel like you really transcend experience with someone and that they are there with you on some other plane of reality, then I suppose it's fairly easy to talk about everything else.  Although, I remember being reticent to tell him how I felt sometimes because I feared it would drive him away.

So even those memories aren't quite right. 

I can't entirely capture what I want to say about this.  Although Mr.Aloof was a complete and utter bastard, we shared something that was incredibly powerful.  It was probably not love, but it was something, and it marked me.  Now, I date new people.  I try to balance not having someone be a total dick to me but still wanting to experience some of those thrills and highs that I had with him.  Primarily founded in my sexual proclivities.  I have not found anyone like this at all.

This young girl by the way, she has.  She took a different path, but then, she's a very different person.  And much younger than me.  I was never like her, even when I was her age.  I think it will be interesting to meet her, and while it will be useful in some ways, it will cause me much to think about introspectively in others.  Because I read her blog, and part of me doesn't believe entirely in what she has anymore.  Not that I don't believe that she has it, but I see what she has, and I don't want that either.

I fear what I want doesn't exist sometimes.  And I fear that I will never -feel- again, and to the depth for another human being that I have now experienced.  I am probably wrong in this.  But until life shows me otherwise, then what have I got?

08 November 2011

Digging and Filling

There is no good way to write this post.  But I need to record it.  The end result is good I think.  Confusing in some ways, but good.

When to start.  In 2006?  Last month?  How about with the basic facts.  I stalk people.  People I used to know.  People I may have never met.  People who crossed my path for some reason at some point and piqued my interest.  At the time, I found them, and then, I find it hard to let them go.  Some people I stalk irregularly, and others more often.  Mostly it depends on how much effort it takes.

The fallout of three years wasted with Mr.Aloof is that there are a couple of profiles I follow from moments of revelation with him.  This is about the first.  The first one I knew about.  The one who seemed to have the things I wanted.  The one who wrote about things that I had had as if they were hers.  I hated her then.  I confronted him.  He encouraged my feelings by filling in details of her craziness and obsessiveness.  She continued to pursue him while he was pursuing me, and Toy.  I distinctly remember that I practically begged him that he never invite her to any of the activities he planned because I didn't think I would be able to handle meeting her.

How well my own fears and hurts played into his hands.

It's now over four years from then.  I've continued to follow this girl.  She was infrequent, not overly interesting.  And as it was so long ago, and also, as so many awful things happened after her, it didn't really matter.  It was habit.

So it was equally habit when a month ago she started a tumblr blog, I just clicked and started following that too.

It was interesting.  Of course tumblr is mostly for images, and the image she posted are ones I enjoy.  But she also was writing.  Giving me extra glimpses of that time.  Of things that I didn't understand.  One of the perks of stalking.  She has a new partner now and he has a tumblr too.   I followed his as well for good measure, again, don't get me wrong, there's a reasonable overlap of interests, and enough reasons to look at the blogs, even without the extra connections.  But still, the real gold for me was the nuggets I learned.

But then slowly, the things I started to learn upset me.  And some of the images I saw being posted were ones I had sent to Mr.Aloof.  And suddenly, I wanted this girl to know about me.  I wanted her to know some of the things he said about her, because it didn't match what she was posting on her blog.  I wanted her to know some of those photos were mine.  Some of those words were mine.  Those items were mine.  Or rather, mine first.

I have no idea what drove me to do what I did.  I tried to work out a way to contact her anonymously but it didn't really work.  So I made a tumblr.  I used his old emails to me to make a very succinct but clear story to show that I wasn't crazy.  I included a blog I had on IC about the day I found out about her.  Then, I used that tumblr to follow her blog.  I figured there was a small chance she wouldn't check the blog.  Then I saw that she was on IC and I realized that since I'd copied a post, it would be easy to find me directly.  All that effort for nothing.  But, it wasn't for nothing.  I was still torn and unsure.  I needed to make it difficult.  To see if it was really worth it.

And she contacted me almost in a panic.  That it was Mr.Aloof fucking around with her.  I quickly assured her it was not so.  But that I needed to know, and I needed her to know.  I wanted some clarity, and I felt perhaps I could give her some as well.

We've had a frantic 24 hours of message exchange.

I am still a bit in shock about the things I learned.  When Mr.Aloof split with me in May 2006, he'd already been seeing her since January.  The reason he split with me, was not to be alone and because he had no time as he suggested, but because she was moving in to the warehouse.  And then, they moved in to a flat in Croydon together.  When I found out about her, a week after he and I had hooked up, he was actually living with this woman.  And then subsequently telling me she was nothing and not anyone of consequence.  She was in Dorking around the same time I was, albeit only once.  But even in 2007, as I got back with him and with Toy for yet another year of my life, and all of it was so much drama, he was pursuing her.

And the maid.  And others.

She told me of the others.  She asks did I know them?  Did I know of the others?  Jesus, how many were there?  No wonder the man had no time at all.

But the icing on the cake.  Guess what he called her in 2006 and throughout their time together as a way to goad her?  You'll never guess.  He called her... Ms.Aloof.  I shit you not.  I was tempted to send her here, to this blog, to prove I couldn't make this stuff up.

I might meet this girl for a coffee.  We were both a bit overwhelmed by my actions and subsequent revelations. She knows more things that might help fill gaps as do I.  I find with this level of exposure it has the knock on effect of being some kind of relief.  I've known these things for so long, but I didn't really have anyone who understood completely.  She understands because she experienced it.  It's amazing in a way, to validate that I'm not crazy or making this shit up.  Because she understands the lows, but she also understands the highs.  And I don't think almost anyone I know really understands what it's like to be so overcome by someone so masterful in the arenas that I wander.

Fuck.  I have her emails saved.  And she's written it up in her tumblr.  I don't need to record all the detail here, I just needed to record something.  I have more to say on this in another post.  Which is probably related to why I spontaneously decided to reach out to her now.  But that will have to be for another time.  This post is for this.

Mr.Aloof was, and probably still is, a fucking sociopath.  I can't possibly explain what this small bit of revelation has done for me.  The good thing, is that I can see how far I've come.  And, post therapy, and possibly even without, I can guarantee I will never, ever fall for something like that ever again.