Just this evening I came upon a lovely and fascinating site of photographs (via ErosBlog) and the first thing I wished I could do was share it with Mr.Aloof.
Of course I didn't. But it's pushed me to write a post I've been avoiding- one about how I miss Mr.Aloof and how it's been on my mind quite a bit. In fact even now, I'm dithering while writing this. I'm checking other things on the Internet. I'm watching Six Feet Under on DVD.
I think it's having all of this time on my own.
While Mr.Aloof was fairly horrible at just about everything when it came to me, the main purpose or role that he served in my life was to be there, on the other end of the computer screen, to talk to, to share things with, to bounce things off of, etc. Now, finding myself not only with lots of time on my hands, but also spending a lot of it looking at random things on the Internet, so many things cross my path that I know he'd like or be interested in, that I could share that interest with him.
I miss that.
Of course, when I think to myself that, "I miss him.", I counter that thought process with trying to be very critical about what is there exactly to miss. Yes, I miss that presence on the other end of the computer screen. And I miss the extremely infrequent yet powerfully stimulating intimacies that we shared. But as I say, those were infrequent. And I can't say that I miss the neglect, the abuse, the lying, the not being there. None of that I miss.
But for some reason, I dwell on the thought that I miss him.
I should also add, that he has emailed me on a semi-regular basis of every month or so. He sends me three sentences. One of which is always a question about "am I well?". Which really means that there are only two sentences left for him to make any sort of difference, which of course he doesn't.
Every time he has emailed me, I have sent him back the same thing. A reply saying that idle chatter is not appropriate, and that unless he is prepared to discuss the destruction and loss of our relationship and friendship (and specifically, his role in the destruction and loss of our relationship and friendship), that I have nothing else to talk to him about. At which point he disappears for another month or month and a half, and sends three lines again.
I know in his asking me 'Are you well?' that he hopes that I am so that he can find his absolution. Absolution which I am not prepared to give him as long as he denies me my own. So I also tend to include some line in my response saying that I am not well, without elaborating.
I know that those who know me think I should not be replying at all. But I can't do that. Maybe I will be able to at some point, when I tire of this new routine. At the moment, I don't get what I want. So I reply, but I don't give him what he wants. I hope that he will change, but he won't. But I can't stop that tiny tendril of hope. That people will become the best that they can be. That he will stop being afraid of himself, and the world around him. That he will embrace life, and grow up. I believe that people can change. Of course, they have to want to change, and they have to believe that it is possible to change.
I want him to change. I still want for him to be what I saw he could be. And I am angry and sad that not only may that never happen, but that I bought into it, and then lost something fairly precious in the process.
Sometimes I just want things to be how they were, and then I remind myself that I want no such thing. I feel impotent. Stuck. I know I think about it too much. Think about him too much.
I think that I miss him, and then I think that I only miss an idea of him, that was never him at all. But then I just fall back into thinking that I miss him again. And I vaguely dread that next three line email, when his name appears in my inbox and I'll hope that he'll have changed, and I'll open it with my heart beating just that bit faster, only to be crushed again by disappointment.
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I am the sum of my parts. Some of which are not suitable for minors or the uptight. Please leave now if this is you.
2 comments:
Why do we do this to ourselves; take the opinion of men who don't care about us (but pretend they really do) seriously? I feel just the same about the man who has broken my heart today; he still wants to be friends as we have so much in common and a great relationship 'up there' *points to head*. But how can either you or I be friends with these men when they really think so little of us, and only want us as a big ego boost?
But.
We miss them, and we miss the chance of there being something in the future when there isn't anything else on offer. Even though I found out that shit of a man tonight was once engaged to a woman he 'didn't connect with' - what a tosser, eh? And who need never have hurt me if he'd been honest from the start, as I had been with him. He just wrote a post saying 'All Men Are Bastards: Discuss'. I think he's right; he should know. But I long to find a man to prove he's wrong, and I guess you do, too.
Emotional Twin- It's true. It's all true. We're gullible I guess, to believe what people tell us, but it's only because we're both people who see no need or reason to lie to or deceive others, so we always get knocked sideways by those who do. Because we don't do it to others, we don't expect it.
But that's not a flaw. It's not a flaw to be open and in touch with yourself. But I suppose we need to learn to believe that people can be horrible, and not always try to think the best of them. Give second, fourth, and hundredth chances.
But I don't regret being open, and honest, and in touch, and able to express that. I just want it in return, as I think, do you.
Meanwhile, we suffer. But to know yourself, to really know yourself, is I think, worth the suffering. You (and me) are better than they are. We are.
Hugz.
-K
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