2001-07-11 - 1:05 p.m.

Holy Shit.

There are advertisements for diaries. I'm looking at one right now. I understand the voyeuristic pleasures of on-lining your soul in public, I understand the thrill that comes from people reading your thoughts, responding to them, being told you are deep (hopefully). I have no problem with any of this, and I encourage it to all and sundry.

But Ads? With pictures? Are we even supposed to have pictures on this thing? I thought half the fun was imagining a person to accompany the thoughts, trying to guess who they are (especially if you think you know them). I suspect that pictures cheapen this excercise, but I'm not positive. Interesting note from a fellow diarier (And doesn't THAT sound lovely!): rock-stars. Do we, as an online community, have them? Are there certain diaries that are not-to-be-missed? Must-read-entries? A Canon of on-line confessional literature? If so, what the hell is wrong with us?

I haven't posted in a very long time, but a lot has happened to me, and I have spent most of my down-time in one funk or another, so my self-indulgence has robbed my public (all four of you) of my gripes. And for that, I am truly sorry. Ahem. Anyway, a quick update on your's truly.

I broke up with Strumpet, my girlfriend. That name, for the record implies no disrespect. It's a reference to, well, Strumpet would get it, and I think she'd approve my choice of words. Emotionally conflicted is not a good word to describe my feelings regarding this breakup: it's way too prosaic. On the one hand, I'm glad to be entirely my own person, with no restrictions and a fresh start in a new city. I think that bothered me the most in the relationship: I was 200 miles away on the other side of the state, and trying to start my after-college life but I still had a chunk of my thoughts in Sarasota. It's difficult to live like that, I couldn't any longer. The situation is resolved now, which is also a weight off my mind, and we remain friends to this day, so good show all around.

On the other hand, and there's always an other hand, I really enjoyed being with her. We had a lot of fun, we laughed a lot, the sex was great (AHHHH!!!! don't say that word!!!!!!!) and I can honestly say it was probably the most fun, and least unhealthy relationship I've ever been in. And I've had a few unhealthy relationships, but also a few healthy ones. Strumpet, God bless her, was the best. So no points there for singledom.

I've been wondering about the evolution of my feelings on dating recently, the change in the way I've viewed love. I started out convinced in True Love, and tried to live my life as much according to that as anything. It got me into trouble. I spent 7 years chasing one girl, a great friend of mine today, believing that she was my True Love, and constantly mourning the fact that she didn't want to date me. The fact that I was behaving like such a weepy-teen prat probably had something to do with that, but let that be. Of course, in those 7 years, there were other girls I dated, and even one or two I thought were 'really' my True Love while I was on the mend from my latest rejection. None of this changed me. I was in my element of rejection and Quixotic love. Tres triste, n'est-ce pas?

When I went to college, I continued much in the same vein, I chose someone and fell in Love. Except that this person actually dated me, kissed me, wanted to touch me as much as be touched by me. This was heady stuff, a woman with a sex-drive. We never had sex, and damn-good thing too, I reckon. And after 6 months, we broke up. But 4 of those six months were spent apart thanks to summer vacation and her change of college the next semester. Boy that sounds bad, but really it had nothing to do with me. When distance finally killed it, I didn't let go. I remained friends with her, and we wrote each other, and I visited her in Gainsville every once in a while, and when she returned to NC I wanted her again. For a year I pined over a woman who did not want to date me, because you see, those who do not know themselves are also doomed to repeat. During that year, I hooked up with the first woman who showed any serious interest in me, and we ended up dating for six months. I knew it wasn't Love, but I still convinced myself it was close. And then I had sex. (Thunder). Somehow it changed everything, not between us, but in myself. I knew I wasn't in love. That was the beginning of the change, when I stopped really believing in things like Love. But for the next 2 years, every thought I had about how I didn't believe was countered by my thoughts about Her. Yes, she had acquired capital letters in the meantime. And looking back on it, all of my dating experiences have been influenced by Her, either as a reaction against what I felt, or a desperate attempt to prove to myself that I felt anything.

I need to tell the truth. Purely for myself, to bury the ghost, to get on with my life, to stop being a weepy-teen prat. I always wanted to finish it all dramatically, leave a letter for Her, telling her everything I felt (I swear, I felt), being the Romantic that wins awards. I even went so far as to write one, while dating Strumpet if you can believe that. I never sent it, which is fine, because I didn't say anything interesting in it. I let this ghost come between me and my present, holding back, growing old. I can't let it anymore. The truth is, whatever I in fact feel for Her, right before we broke up, I thought about ending it myself. I didn't want to be tied down to someone in another school. I remember these thoughts, and I remember constantly suppressing them in my memory later on.

I only started getting moony when she became inaccessible. Because I hadn't grown up. haven't.

That doesn't mean that I no longer believe in Love. I do, but in the same way I believe in God: it can't be touched, can't be come into contact with. It's the ideal, you leap for it, into the abyss, and pray you'll get a finger to graze it on your way down. My problem is, I couldn't have what I wanted so desperately, so I pretended whatever I had was it.

And that's all for today, chilluns. Daddy's a little tired.

�

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