I thought it truly was over. I hadn’t talked to her since October.
Our last real conversation:
Me: But hey – C’est la vie.
Me: Although, I will go to the (Redacted) to sign the (Redacted).
Her: Ah ok.
Her: Say hi to Ms. (Redacted)
Her: I will try to visit them too, someday.
Me: If you visit while I’m still in (Redacted) – I’ll go with you.
Her: Sounds good.
Her: But I wont be able to do things more than friendly.
Me: Oh yeah.
Her: I guess I’ll say hi to Mrs. (Redacted) for you.
Her: Wouldn’t want you to lose control.
Her: I wouldnt lose control, I kind of like someone now.
Me: Good luck with that.
Her: Why would I need luck if I like someone?
Me: I’m not laughing at that.
Her: What are you laughing at?
Sure, I kept upbeat with the occasional “Wouldn’t want you to lose control”, but what she said next just took the wind right out of my sails. It was like she took a shiv and plunged it into what remained of my heart. I wasn’t laughing in a good way. I was laughing, hysterically inside, like when you know it’s over and there is nothing you can do but laugh about it. I felt dead inside that I really had no more chance. I couldn’t bear to speak with her any longer She had finally move another and there was no way I could ignore it any longer, with the evidence looking me in the face.
I never spoke much about this story, because doing so gives me the chills. I’ve forced myself to shut about it to parents, friends, and family as much as I can. Because, I could go on for hours, days, weeks, if not years on this subject. Analyze everything. Sure, there was a tonne of game to learn from it, but as I go through every word we spoke to one another, I’d relive every interaction and that in itself was no small torture. On my blog I have a trajectory, of going through my high-school years the painful lessons I’ve learned. She is simultaneously my greatest success and my greatest failure. I will always have a soft spot in my heart for her.
And it killed me. That I never sealed the bond. I had this nagging suspicion, that my memory would be wiped from her memory, with the next guy who is able to escalate enough to deflower her. The only way I was able to deal with it in the end, was the nuclear option, of which she was so afraid. I had not talked to her since October, when she spotted me on Skype after I had deactivated Facebook and not been on for a month. With RIP as my last status. The only, final bond between me and her, was that we were still “friends”, on Facebook. And I had not deleted her from Skype, nor her me. The last time she was online, visibly, was in January. And I think that every time she is online, it is because she hopes I see and that I will talk to her. I think this, because in February 2012, she started appearing offline during our FB and Skype conversations so that we wouldn’t be interrupted by her friends. She’d only appear online so I’d see it and initiate conversation. I thought that the fact that she hadn’t been online since January meant that she’d had given up hope.
I wanted so desperately to talk to her again, but I couldn’t. For every time we talked after the final “break-up” (we had labeling issues), her memory, in my head, of being submissive, wanting to cook for me, and to be dominated by me, got diminished. She no longer felt it anymore. The I love you, but I am not love with you. The kiss of death. I could have died happy in November. December even. Fucking January too. Such is the power she came to have over me. Rivaling the power, I once had, and maybe still have over her.
But the other day, she appeared online again. I couldn’t bear to look so I went off of Facebook. When I returned to it later, I saw a big red, 1 on top of my message icon. I thought to myself, “It can’t be her, can it?”
It was. For her Art School in Turkey, she’s studying abroad near my hometown. She misses me a lot and wants to see me again….