The past is a foreign country

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.

10th Anniversary

Originally written December 2016

I meant this milestone to pass with some ceremony. I was going to reflect on the last 10 years maybe claim my place in Blog history. I thought I might defect to Wordpress even. But late November and early December was a very lacklustre period, and so it just passed by. I can't believe the rise of Blogging in this period. The Blogging stars and YouTube sensations that have emerged as I simply got by day by day. This is so typical of me. I  am often an early adopter of things, but miss the boat at the same time.

I was an advocate for women in IT in 1994, but was somehow encouraged to let it go in favour of becoming a role model myself.

During Y2K I was holed up in a minor university at the end of the earth, and my students graduated and immediately earned three times what I did.

I've been on Twitter since 2009

And I have been blogging since 2006.

Sigh..

Roy Hattersley's dog

I do not pretend that my grief was unique - I merely state, as a matter of fact, that nothing has ever caused me as much pain as Buster's death  

Roy Hattersley was evidently  surprised by the depth of his grief over Buster, and by analogy I have been totally bowled over by the depth of my grief around the loss of a "potential" relationship. I sometimes wonder if I am somehow preparing myself for the greater losses that are bound to occur in my life, of my parents for example.  Like Mr Hattersley nothing caused me as much pain as being rejected by George. The only thing that came close was a late miscarriage of twins when I was 34.

Maybe the mere fact of him was masking a whole lot of other stuff around my family of origin, the circumstances of my migration, and my own choice of husband a few years after we left school. I imbued him with a significance he just doesn't have.

I offer you no explanation. I just hope that the universe will hand me a solution in the next decade or so.

Dear George

Well, one way I have found to cope with something that is hard to understand relationship wise is to tell the story, as sympathetically as possible from the other person's side. Up until last week even I was so broken, so changed by you with the feeling of nothing to live for that I wasn't able to do this but I think maybe I have finally got some perspective, and that this could finally comfort me (somewhat) the story of what *I* felt is separate. So here goes..

Your marriage ended, and between this happening and the divorce coming through, the woman that you really liked went a little colder on you. She had her own concerns and seemed to be locking you out. You felt very lonely. Then in walked me. You were vulnerable. Who knows maybe you were abusing some drug or other or maybe just alcohol but you told me we had a connection, when I left you said you were missing me you said you couldn't wait to be with me. This went on for a few months and we became close. You said I had been very good to you. Things got a bit intense and a sexual relationship seemed inevitable. Then maybe that lovely girl started paying you more attention. Relying on you and being close with you again, about this time you needed to scale me back but it was a bit late you had already asked me to come and visit. So there was a little bit of subconscious "hedging of your bets" at my expense. After all at this point you did really like me at least in a sexual way. You had fancied me at school and you had still liked me in a pub in London in January. For whatever reason you didn't tell me about the subplot until I arrived. This is one thing I think you could've done much earlier. Not hedged me, not led me on. So then I arrived and you told me as soon as you possibly could but instead of being absolutely clear about it though there was a little half-hearted fumbling. I think you could've set up a bed in your front room. It would've been disappointing, but I wouldn't have made a fool of myself. But you didn't.

Then contrary to what "It said on the box" you didn't introduce me to your friends. You deliberately locked me out which was sealing the deal on the notion that "I hardly knew you" despite the fact that we had been chatting most days and had become quite close. This was the second cruel and disorienting thing you did besides the hedging. I think you secretly hoped I would make alternative arrangements. You found me clingy, needy, insecure. You deliberately locked me out of your social circle claiming to be busy. But all the time you were tirelessly polite and hospitable.

In those months when we were close, I came to trust you. This was misplaced. So I opened up to you which was a mistake. After this the hatches were battened down, and friendship via social media, the only possible outlet, was closed.

Actually no, I need it to be less sympathetic. In fact though on the surface it seems innocent enough, it seems even that you were a victim. You were depressed and “struggling”. In fact you used me as a source of “supply” of what you needed. Emotional pick me up, sexual titillation and Love.

You used me to get over your unsuccessful rebound. You lied to me with your "can't wait to see you etc" and you're lovely etc. Those things could not be unsaid with a simple shrug of the Shoulder and gas lighting me into thinking I imagined it all. I have the texts. It was a classic bait and switch. This is the truth about you. You perceive me to be “lower than you” what do you have to lose? ok so you piss me off and give me a year of shit to deal with, but I’m not your boss, and I don’t pay your wages it is going to have zero repercussions so what is there to lose really. The mistake I make is thinking everyone is like me. They are not. Most creditably you could call this strategic but really it is game playing and manipulation.

You caused me some pain. Paradoxically what you think matters to me. The final act of kindness might be to recognise how harmless I am and not lock me out. As I said ages ago I'd settle for being a

friend or "big sister" figure as opposed to being locked out. My feelings for you which might've seemed base or lustful were quite the contrary I felt affection and sympathy. And I certainly wasn't in it for any sort of personal gain, or to get my hands on your filthy lucre or whatever.'

So we are now strangers again. And I am left forever wondering if I did something to piss you off monumentally, or if you just needed to stop feeding me to make me go away.  Either way i am crushed. You are Capricious and mercurial and you have given me a year of confusion to deal with.