Although you know about this blog, I am pretty sure that you will not visit and read this. I guess I have made sure of that myself. But to be honest (and that is the point of this exercise after all), I am even hoping that you will and I am writing this for myself to try and put this to bed and lay it to rest. Admire the choice of words!
When I finally left a "footprint" on your profile and then contacted you on Saturday, I wasn't expecting what has been happening since. As I mentioned during our good humoured initial banter, I have been aware of your profile for months. The way you look; that combination of boyishness and manliness, your bookish good looks and that natural-looking yet obviously cared-for (muscular) body, have intrigued me for some time now. Discovering that you were an artist and a book collector only increased my interest.
Our subsequent meeting, later that day and what happened there, truly sealed the deal for me. You were so kind, relaxed and welcoming; so trustful too, falling asleep in my arms for a short while. I found myself once back on the bus after 30 minutes of a short uneasy conversation and a just-as-short, uninspired, unsatifying, disconnected congress; spending more time travelling than with the guy I was visiting.
Ironically perhaps, I had a message from that same guy when I came back home on Satruday night. He doesn't seem aware of how unfulfilling our encounter had been. Just like you seem unaware of how ours was for me, after five hours spent with you, happily chatting and, I felt, building some connection. While this is probably a fairly standard experience for you, it was so completely out of the ordinary for me and resembling so closely what my current lonelyness makes me yearn for that I had to be moved.
Yes, we have exchanged a few message since then but I can tell that your heart is not really in it. You were only sending one message when I was sending about three. Aware that I was probably coming across a little strongly, with those numerous messages, although they were only about helping you with your website and getting a professional contact to perhaps help your career, I even tried to aleviate what I imagined were your doubts. I wrote:
I am not a stalker or anything, more like a young pup, if anything... sometimes a bit too enthusiastic and not very gifted socially. Not having any obvious talent myself, I am pleased to be of help to people who have some if I can. That means I am not completely useless...You very tactfully ingored this and kept to the subject of your website and other such things. It is very clear to me that you are keeping me at arms' length to the point that I am wondering if you are not simply milking all the information you think can help you out of me before stopping contact altogether. From your point of view, this is probably the sensible thing to do in this situation anyway.
I also have to admit that, even after the little time we have spent together, I like you, you are clearly a nice guy and it is not often that I feel I click with someone or can say that of them... And I realise you may not think we have particularly clicked or that it is something special for you.... am just wierd like that... don't mind me too much
Yesterday, once you had read (and ingored) my last two messages, I realised that these would be the last. That unless you contact me again, which I doubt you will, I should not and would not contact you again myself. I know when I am not wanted and have both the politeness and the self-respect not to impose my presence on people who don't want it.
This is not the first time that I found myself in this sort of turmoil, and considering who I am, it can not be the last, either. Am I being melodramatic here? Probably, but meeting a man who truly interests me is such a rare thing for me, that the event gets blown out of proportion. Which is probably also my downfall, as we have just seen.
I think what this unfortunate episode has showed me is how I will probably behave if and when I ever fall in love for good with someone. In the way I have behaved with you, I can see a hint of the fierce protectiveness and the mothering instinct displayed by my mother. While these can, I supposed, be good things, they are also things I tried to flee myself and I have to be aware of how smothering (such an interesting word: "smothering") and overpowering this can be. This has also provided me with a most tentalising glimpse of what I now realise I want and need, even if I am (obviously) not ready for it.
Of course, I am still hoping you will contact me, that I have misinterpreted everything and that you feel what I am feeling. Despite all the signs pointing to a different direction.
In anycase, I want to wish you the very best of luck both with your art and your life and I want to thank you for helping me grow and for what you have given me.
The Consequences of Falling