Muhahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahaha! ®
Still a registered trademark. I don't sue, I get even.Point the First:
OH EM GEE! Is Blackie back....again?!No. Not really. More of an update on my status.
I am alive.
That was easy.
I am emotionally sound....PFFFFFTT!!!

Yeah, even I can't keep a straight face with that one.
I am however much better then I was.
Story in that regard the first: 'Jane'
Well, after spilling my soul out to a fellow forum goer some weeks ago, and she most certainly was *not* Mrs. Hollow, I was in some sort of a miasma of...emotional pain in regards to Jane that had me convinced that I wanted this person, that I had feelings where somehow there just weren't any there prior. It tore me apart inside.
Finally in the New Year, as I made sure my overly drunk friend did not puke to death at his own party, a plan finally formed in my head: To be certain of both my own feelings and hers.
But how? Well, drunken rationality to the rescue!! You've heard of drunk dialing, but this would be drunk emailing!! Full of confessions! Absolutely stinking of that irresistible pheromone of 'Wounded Boy'.
What was the catch?
The events and dates that were contained therein were complete fabrications. Easy to slip by on the surface, but upon examination they would fall apart completely.
I sent it with unbaited breath and about three more shots of liquid courage in me. I did not expect a reply.
So I was actually surprised when she did.
It was a standard 'girl-letting-you-down' reply...which was the first clue. The second was how she 'agreed' with many of my assertion about dates and events that simply weren't true, and I had the evidence to back it up.
She left me high and dry without a word, so I was a little bitter. Don't judge me. Only Kiln can judge me, and he's made it clear that only me joining a Burlesque House as the lead dancer would make him raise an eyebrow. Whether in disgust or interest went left unsaid.
"The reason I cut contact with you was because
I knew that you wanted more then friendship." she wrote.
In that moment, the weight was lifted, and my heart was free. I never wanted more then friendship. It wasn't until she started ignoring me I was wondering what the heck was up, and that later turned into: "What might have been."
No...this was a trap I had set;...drunkenly... and she'd fallen into it. At that moment I'd remembered something from back in early 2000. A girl I'd worked with prior, but otherwise had no interest in romantically, did develop that interest in me. It ended poorly when I told her that I was not interested. It was private, yet she broke down into tears, and the knowledge of how it felt to be rejected flowed forth into an almost overwhelming guilt.
So we hung out a couple of times after that and it didn't end well. Again.
Fast forward to 2014. Take that same story and stretch it out over eight months. The feeling of guilt from an implied rejection, alongside a genuine affection for this person regardless of her gender. Either way, a very strong feeling. And yeah, she looked good, but so do magazine photos. That doesn't make them have traits that suit me, or viable in a long-term relationship, and frankly I have bigger fish to fry.
I eagerly collected my data: Her adding me to Facebook; not vice versa. Copy of the text that she'd sent me asking; almost begging, me to go have that drink with her after work when I left the company.
Then, I stopped. Hell hath no fury...yes. But, I also realized: She never really was my friend. She'd played the part to a tee, and hanging out with her a couple of times yet being indifferent had made her see something that wasn't there either. We were both victims of our illusions. She'd cut contact when things weren't heading the direction she'd wanted, and I was wondering what the hell I'd done, and feeling bad that I'd hurt her.
Yet, here I was: Trying to hurt her. Even if 'Vanity thy name is woman, what was I trying to accomplish? Even if the sexist rule is: 'The hotter the chick, the more insecure.' Was I so petty that I would let my insecurities go to war with hers? What was the endgame, and what were the consequences?
I don't know if she ever shed a tear over me. I don't think she did, but I saw that girl's face from nearly fifteen years ago bawling at a tablestand in a marketplace.
Someone will comfort her. Someone will make her feel protected. But it won't be me. I was never the man for the job, and frankly...I was never interested in applying for it. I don't drink to the point of blackout, I don't go to clubs, I don't listen exclusively to R&B artists such as Lil' Wayne or Drake or Nicki Minaj.
What I had needed was closure, and I got it. I was finally at peace with what was, but not entirely with what is at that moment in time. I nodded to myself as I deleted what I had written on the screen. I decided that the story didn't matter anymore. Like a bad sequel I was the one dredging it up and making my audience suffer with something that should not have been. And just like going to see it, someone else always pays the price for our mistakes in this regard.
So I wished her the best, sent her a couple of pics of my calligraphy abominations, and...I went about my day with a spring in my step I'd not had in some time.
It was then I noticed the cute little Asian girl that I worked alongside occasionally who was shy as hell actually smiling at me. Or had she been this whole time? It made no difference, I asked her out for some coffee and she said yes.
Jane has her side of the story, and my 'evidence' to corroborate it. I wish her the best, and frankly, I don't care what she thinks or says now. I'm much more comfortable sitting here with a little Asian chick who shares my interests, doesn't like going to clubs either, drinks in moderation as I do, and much like me likes nearly all music and doesn't need to focus on one genre.
Oh, and my calligraphy drives her up the wall. She says I will have to write her a love letter in my badass spencerian hand one of these days.
One of these days, maybe. If she plays her cards right.