|Blogs > AmericanArmyBoy > Long-Distance Dump|
The Body of the Blog
The Body of the Blog
Hmmm ... the first lines. It always sets the mood ... the overtone ... the ambient environment upon which we place these simple words of ours on the pages, corrupting the pure white with this ink of darkest black, so vile and corrupt that at times it twists hearts and bends minds to its siren call. So easily are the words put upon this paper, but once they are firmly placed upon the paper, they gain substance simply by being there. One must wonder, if words gain so much power just by being written down, what other ways have people found to twist them over the ages? But I digress from the original subject of this blog, and finish this aside to go back to the original thought.
Now, where were we? Ahhh... Yes. The Dump. But first some background. I'll provide more in my next blog, but this is the foundation of the relationship I was in:
I had met this girl online. She had actually contacted me on one of the many IM services available in our day and age (AIM, Y! Pager, MSN, ICQ, you name your pick). This is a first for me--no one has ever contacted me in my life, unless of course it was the usual spam, the offers of meaningless sensual photos on the Internet, which are as bait to us humans, the most sensual of creatures, who long the most for one-ness and to be near to someone, yet are always infinitely alone, even when holding someone in our arms. And then they want money. Not the person, but the people sending those damned photos. They give a little peak ... then take it away. Oh, well. They have to make money to eat too, I guess. But not from me. No. I refuse to pay for visual pornography on the Internet when there is so much for free when you know where to look. But yet again, I digress.
This girl began talking to me, and we discovered we were both interested in some of the same things. We both agreed mutually that we were of at least above-average intelligence, and that people who did stupid things because they thought it was cool, and people in general who weren't "Real" (you know what I mean) annoyed us. And so, we decided that it was fun talking to one-another, and if we should see each other online again, we would talk.
Now, this continued for a number of weeks, until we decided to trade phone numbers. This continued for yet another number of weeks, before we decided that we were interested and compatible enough to interested emotionally in one another. Again, this is a very brief sketch of what happened, and I will attempt to go into more detail at some later date.
We had a pretty nice time, doing the whole phone-sex thing (mostly I described to her what I would do to her while directing her fingers with my voice, and she pleasured herself, while I pleasured myself with the thought that she was getting pleasure from what I was saying). And so this went on for a couple of months. She even said that there was a chance she'd come visit me here in January, and we decided that we would continue talking, meet in January, and decide where we wanted to keep going from there. And today--or rather, yesterday, 12 hours ago, I call her (she can't call me for some reason...), and she tells me that she can't come because her parents want her to come on a trip with them, and either she goes with them or stays at home. And so, she tells me she wants to break up, because she doesn't feel like she can want me so much without ever seeing me.
So I did the usual thing men are supposed to do in this situation--I fought for her. I argued with her. I told her it would be alright. I told her I'd wait for her until she could come at a later date. I told her I was fine being "just friends", that her friendship was enough for me, and I didn't need any more than that, while secretly knowing I'd want more, but unless she'd keep in contact with me, I would not be able to have any chance of meeting her.
But no matter how hard I tried, she was adamant in her refusal of my proposals. Yet I fought on, and she continued to stop me. And so she left me here, telling me that if I called she wouldn't answer, and that she'd never go on the messenger again with that screen name. And so I feel like a lonely boat on a storm, bereft of its anchor to float or sink at the storm's whim, with my mast nearly broken and my sails ripped apart. We shall see where this storm takes me, for tho' I ride along at its beck and call, I promise myself that I will ride it out, and hopefully should my heart survive this, it will find a calm sea and pleasant breezes again.