Friday, July 01, 2005

Racial Epithets Among Cookware; Specifically Pots and Kettles

Ok, So I wrote a blog a little while ago entitled "Cowardice," to which I had every right to feel the way that I did and I am not taking back anything I said now. There is no renegging of my position on that, but I do have a confession to make: I am a coward. Only in one respect, mind you, but the impact of which may go to the very core of my being. I'll explain. Ready? here goes.

The story begins in the summer of 1999. During that summer I became enamored with the idea of meeting people over the internet and making new friends. One such friend and I began to gain very deep feelings for each other without ever having met. She was in Florida, I was in DC. We conversed often, and, the evidence of condensation behind my auditory faculties notwithstanding, I began to love her. Whoa, you say? How could this be, you say? "I'll explain," said the cat.

When two people meet over a medium such as the internet they are introduced into two likelihoods: the possibility of obtaining truth from an individual, or to be completely conned by the persona in which the anonymous individual purports. Because we had both experienced a lot of the latter, we warmed to the idea of meeting a real person who had a background similar to our own. Cue: fairy tale music.

So everything was so right. Our conversations flowed beautifully, lasting anywhere from 2 to 4 hours long, longing to spend more time talking, talking about any and everything, everything felt so right and yet so wrong, wrong because we clicked so well yet our distance was cancerous, cancerous to two people who believed that coincidence is merely the strobe light of fate. (Tangent: can you tell that I love chiasmus? Pause. Oh, and yes, this was a deliberate tactic to put a break in the "AWWWWWWW's" But I digress.)

So with everything so right and seeming so unfair that a person whom we truly cared about was so far away, we thought that it would be better for us to be simply friends. Welcome to Platonica, ladies and gentlemen: the land where jealousy is carefully veiled, and longing is consistently stifled. Population unknown.

So from the year 2000 to the beginning of 2004, things were cool. We went through our respective relationships and even divulged the intricacies and intimacies therein. We didnt talk as frequently of course, but our friendship was genuine. The transition wasn't easy and I won't pretend that it was, but it was necessary; it was needed. We became good friends, though. The laughter was exchanged and advice was freely distributed. Enter 2004.

We had talked about meeting face to face over the years as you would imagine, yet the opportunity failed to present itself. In the year 2004, I decided to go to Florida for Spring Break and finally meet her face to face. In the weeks before we talked more frequently about what to do when I got there, from activities to where I would stay, etc. Then the curveball came.

"My feelings for you have never really changed," she said. "Even after all these years, I still can't help but to think 'what if?'" What was my response? Well I was conflicted because the possibility of "what if" was in my mind, admittedly, but MY feelings HAD changed. I didn't love her like that anymore, and honestly I was hesitant to revisit that time. Long distance relationships are situations that I am wary to entertain because they are torturous to my affinity for proxemics. Translation: I like closeness.

Have you ever been partially forthcoming? Spatially honest? I have. In our conversations, I indicated that my thoughts pertaining to our visit would revolve around how things are left when I departed from our visit. In my own words, I said, "You're thinking about day 1 and the excitement surrounding it. I'm thinking about day 4 -when I leave, and, more importantly, how things are left." I did not want to start something that I knew I wouldn't finish. I knew in my heart that I had moved on, -I wasn't involved with anyone else at the time, mind you, but I simply did not want to get involved with her romantically.

The trip to Florida was very awkward for me. Honestly, I felt a great deal of pressure from this young lady. I found it difficult to freely enjoy myself because of the longing in her eyes that was so evident and the questions of when she could visit me in DC. Did I mention that I had dinner with her and her family on one evening?

Here is where I am wrong: I wasn't wholly forthcoming about my reservations. In fact, in my efforts to not be misleading through my actions, I succeeded in being so through my words. I gave her hope that maybe my feelings would change, when I knew this was unlikely. I put faith in the unknown, however, because I felt/feel in my heart that there was SOME reason as to why we were in each other's lives. I just didn't know what. Still don't. As you could've guessed, things changed after Day4.

Leaving was like a breath of fresh air. I did not feel like myself during my time in Florida and this was because I was treading softly for fear of doing something to lead her on. I don't know what it was, but something changed my feelings toward her. The friendship felt forced, it felt like a default switch. Almost five years had passed and I was searching for some rhyme or reason as to why things were and what they would be. I needed control that I would never have. I wanted things on my terms. Very selfish of me, no? One time she gave me the whole "People are in your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime" spiel and that maybe "our season was over." That was my exit, but I didn't take it. There had to be a reason, right? Tick. Tock.

So our conversations on the phone became more disinteresting and infrequent. We were obviously on two separate pages and our connection suffered as a result. The unspoken was the loudest it had ever been and I started asking myself if that moment in time was just that and if I needed to let it go. My answers came in avoiding her phone calls and not returning her voicemails. In the last voicemail she left me she said that it would be the last time she called. I wanted to call her back out of guilt, because I didn't want her to think negatively of me. But what would I say? It was not my intention to write her off, but I did not have anything to say to her. I refuse to make up any excuses about my absence. I refuse to lie about my noncommunication. How do you you tell someone the truth in this situation, -that they simply aren't a priority in your life anymore? If I knew that answer then I wouldn't be writing this dissertation of a blog, now would I? *Sigh*
Mal a la tete.

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