The whole thing began about 2 years ago. A casual flirtation on Facebook. An exchange of jaunty emails. A chaste evening in one another's company and a sequence of increasingly less chaste passionate and affirmative correspondence. Culminating in what ridiculous levels of "good breeding", and atrocious communication, would preclude George from admitting, was an embarrassment to him....
Me, arriving at his bachelor pad, to find him bachelor no more.
If he ever looked hard enough at this tableau to truly engage with it, or admit to his part in it, I think he might feel some guilt.
And I for my part, as I said in a previous post, as a function of my mid-life state of mind, my ennui for my home country, my readiness to fall in love, embued him with a lot of significance he just didn't have.
About a year ago, the pain was still to intense to bear, and I was still in counselling trying to let it go. Then in about February of this year having ignored me for a long time, he said something a little rude to me in a Facebook comment. A tiny string broke. Finally when he retired from Facebook, just before his Birthday in late August thus severing all contact. I was able to let it go
And in the quarter that has passed since then, the whole story has become strange and unbelievable to me. I don't recognize myself in the story, or how I felt. It is a foreign country, and I was a foot soldier in a battle I never chose to fight, and which I fought alone.
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1 comment:
That is a really bold and moving piece of writing
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