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Monday, May. 01, 2006 / 8:31 p.m. ~The Perfect Movie Soundtrack~ One more person has disappointed me beyond any possible belief, but adhering to all expectation. "Casablanca" plays in the background as I write, the sound of a woman singing in a club in Morocco, must be Rick's club. Is it "Rick's"? I haven't sat to watch this film in years, but the sound of something so old and classic is comforting now. As I write that my Interweb boyfriend has disappointed me, the one I pined for, waited for, gave up a part of myself for, just so I could be there, for him, always asking the right questions, always paying attention, always wondering and wanting to know more, as I write that it's him, I realize it's me. I disappoint me. My willingness to get lost in the thought of someone new, the potential of someone new, to feel discomfort upon meeting in person, yet taking it back to the 'web, forever writing and writing, rather feverishly at that, until noticing there was nothing but words on a screen, this is wrong, this is all evidence of something missing inside myself, a lack of direction and promise to myself. Ah... "You must remember this... a kiss is just a kiss..." It is. The fundamental things apply, and what better song to hear right now. But what does it mean after all? On what can I rely, after all? Time goes by and one more person has pointed out to me, without even realizing, that I do nothing but disappoint myself. He and I, we are too much alike. I blame it on astrology, I blame it on the Moon, I blame it on our matching Suns, I blame it on his career, I blame it on my lack of one, I blame it on his lack of understanding, his selfishness, and my lack of understanding, my selfishness, because we are exactly the same, wanting someone else to feel what we feel, feel our pain, notice our hurt, and make us better, magically know what we need, without having to ask for it, we are both the same. Alas, it would never work, and yet every time I get to this point, the final destination, realizing with a head full of logical thought, that it would never work, I want to try harder, until I remember him telling me of his last relationship, his girlfriend's fear of abandonment, his therapy sessions teaching him that she was bipolar, that it was her, of course, she was fucked up, not him, and I remember him writing that he wouldn't endure that sort of interaction in any future relationship, and I hear in my head all the declarations he wrote, and I can see the lines he drew with his words. Boundaries, rules, ultimatums, refusals, and I want to purposefully color outside all the lines. I want to back up and try again, a bit differently this time. But it's no use, and I know this. Ah, the rational mind fights it out with the dreamer, and Rick tells the piano player to play it, "Play it!", because he played it for her, he can play it for Rick too. Time goes by, and this will be much easier later, it will. It wasn't a long Interweb relationship, not by anyone's standards, and even if I did think of him every single day, and long for him until it began to hurt, and live to receive his e-mails in my inbox, and tell myself I could wait for him to have time, to squeeze me in, we still only saw each other that one night at my favorite bistro, and maybe it's that place. I meet strangers there, we have dates, we may have one more, and that is all there is. I have been dumped there, I have fallen in lust there, I have sat with hope in my heart there, and wanted, always filled with desire there, and I have wanted to flee from there. Maybe I should find a new place. So it is, time will go by, and this too shall pass. But I miss him already, the man I wanted him to be, the man I dreamed he was. He waited too long for me, not the other way around. Cost of the War in Iraq
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