The Accomplice She was interesting to talk to, so of course I was interested in her. On the long ride back from the mountains, she sat next to me, looking through the notebook I brought everywhere. She read my ideas, my poems, my mind. I truly enjoyed her company; however, there was one thing that she said that made me too worried to continue. It had nothing to do with me and nothing to do with her, but it gave me every practical reason – or excuse – to turn her away.

A year later, we got back in contact. It was one of those frequent “small world” instances that seem too common for the world to be anything but. By then, the arbitrary time limit I applied to the circumstances had expired, so I made myself available. This time, however, it was her own practical reasoning to turn me away, though it could have just been an excuse.  ¶ 9:41 AM

  The Wrong Course of Inaction If I could take back my misunderstanding, I would, but back then – even more than now – I read too deeply into everything and extracted whatever information I wanted. This left a huge gap of reality that, in my mind, was unnecessary in the first place.

I gave her gifts of flowers and sincerity, but in my haste, I overlooked the insincerity of anonymity. I must have believed too heavily in Hollywood endings, must have seen Can’t Hardly Wait too many times. I took her first reply as interest; a sign of equivocal pursuit. I made a second attempt but never heard from her again. It wasn’t nearly as warm and gentle as I imagined she would be.

The worst feeling at the time wasn’t that I was wrong. It was something much deeper, something desperate that I completely understand now. And some days I think that it would be nice to talk to her again, to apologize for the shy and hopeless romantic that I once was. But that would be making the same mistake again.  ¶ 1:40 PM

  Softening In Harder Light I want to believe that the attraction was more than physical and protective, but as I reflect on it more, I’m less certain of that truth. She was several years younger than me, which is usually not something I can overlook, but our conversations were harmonic and engaging and more than enough for me to get lost in.

We had an evening of dangerous connection where we became hopelessly drowned in an emotional torrent. We sat on the cold tiled floor, as vulnerable as ever we were, holding each other as if we’d fall apart if we let go.

She told me how she had been hurt before; how scared she was that it could happen again. I understood but I couldn’t comfort her. I couldn’t tell her that life was going to get better because I didn’t know that for certain. So I told her what I was ashamed of, something that very few people know about me. It was the only thing that I could do to comfort her; to become uncomfortable myself.

As the daylight glimmered into darkness, we shared a sincerity that rivaled passion. We were imperfect creatures craving hope and affection. So completely human.  ¶ 6:56 AM

  The Inquisition It was Friday evening and she was going out with her co-workers for dinner and drinks. We met a few times before that night, had even talked about dating, but had yet to make that specific commitment. I suppose we both had our own reservations, as insignificant as they were at the time, but in the end – the very end – neither of us got what we wanted.

We had been talking regularly that week with rapidly increasing interest, and towards the end of the week she extended the invitation to me. She joked that her friends wanted to interview me. I suppose I took it more lightly than I should have because when I arrived, I found a table full of questions and alcohol. I’m still not sure if it was for any purpose other than entertainment, but I obliged and survived the inquisition with impressive success thanks to my quick wit and casual charm.

I’m sure that most men would have been unnerved by the situation, but not me. I was on my game. I enjoyed the challenge. In fact, this might have been one of the reasons why we dated as long as we did; the challenge. We had conflicting opinions on nearly everything and both of us were too stubborn to ever back down. We thrived on the constant confrontation like two emotional masochists lingering in the abuse, showing off who could withstand more pain.  ¶ 11:18 AM

  The First Hurdle When I found out who she turned me down for, I fell off the edge of the world. I wasn’t myself. Rejection was unfamiliar, to say the least; angering, confusing, and dilapidating, to say the most. Before her, I had never expressed honest sentiments to any woman. I’d never told a woman that I cared for her, that I wanted her. So there I was, in my bedroom, listening to the droning tone of the telephone, thinking back to earlier in the day.

I went out to her house during my lunch break at school with flowers in hand and hope in heart. She met me at the end of her long country driveway, where she told me that she wouldn’t date anyone and that it had nothing to do with me. I believed her. But later that day, I found out that she was seeing someone who I respected very little; worse still, that they had started dating that afternoon. I had to call her because I didn’t believe the rumour. I wanted to hear it from her.

But it was true. She chose some ignorant twit over me. She said that it had nothing to do with me, that it just happened, and I remember wondering why it couldn’t “just happen” between us. When she hung up, her voice resonated through the dial tone like an ongoing insult. My emotion was unbridled; I acted without thinking and car tires screeched as I left home. I sped down a dark highway I had never been on before, not knowing where I was going, just what I was running from.

After an hour, I stopped. I could tell I was in the middle of nowhere by the unfamiliar trees all around me. I’d never be able to find this same place again. There was a ring in my pocket that I was going to give her that day, and I threw it as hard as I could into the dark forest. She had no use for me and I had no use for a ring engraved with her name.

And still to this day, somewhere deep in a place I’ll never see again, is my love for her, as lost as ever she made me.  ¶ 9:08 AM