I am Jack's :: Residual Embarrassment
5ooHz
Apparat :: Goodbye (instrumental)
Jesus Christ.
I am so fucking stupid.
So. I hadn't planned on having much of an entry today. Maybe talk about undertones or some random bullshit that's mostly meaningless. I had planned on just kind of.... I dunno. Doing the routine thing. Had a big entry lined-up for tomorrow, so I was just kind of doing the tasks I had assigned myself this evening.
Felicia starts texting me, and she asks, would I mind looking at her Cupid profile? She had uploaded some new pictures or something, and changed some of the written content of it.
So I sigh to myself, and I'm like, "Fuck it. Ok. Sure." I mean, after all, she bit the bullet and asked for my actual opinion, so the least I can do is offer her that.
So I reactivate my account, and navigate on over to her profile.
It's pretty whatever-- a little emo. Overwrought. What ever you want to call it. Still a bit frigid, but that's probably the best for her right now.
So, I'm done there, and just kind of bored-ly poking about the other profiles there. I check mine, and change my quote to my silly Hook line. And as I'm mucking around, I see Katie's picture in the bottom left of my screen. "Recently visited".
Hah.
When I was slumming around that site months ago, I remembered my mix of delight and longing and hurt when I stumbled upon her profile.
But it was a little like a train-wreck; I couldn't stop visiting it every now and again.
Seeing her youthful pictures. Reading her slightly immature, heavy-handed, trying-to-sound-hella-deep profile.
Just awesome.
Every time I looked at our match percentage, I would grin. And then I would see, "Drinks: Not at all, Smokes: Never", and I my grin would broaden.
Fucking. Sexy.
Anyway.
So, her profile was still in my "recently visited" from months and months back.
I navigate to it again. And again, I'm pleased to see it. I kind of linger on it for a little while, her dead profile. And I imagine this scenario where the cast-off skin of this old, dead profile is the nourishment to grow into the woman I love so hard and so deeply.
And then I think of maybe that woman, which I strictly adore, being the fertilizer for maybe a woman I don't know any more, in turn...
Anyway. So, on a lark, I "favorite" her, and 5-star her profile.
It makes me smile.
And I step away from the computer for a few minutes to grab some water...
.... and when I sit back down, I see, in the bottom-right-hand corner of my screen...
"recreatekate" has visited your profile!", accompanied by her little profile picture.
It's like some weird Escher painting; me staring at her profile, staring at me, staring at her tiny picture-alert in the corner, staring at me.
And I feel a little chill of happiness; I almost wanted to reach out and touch my computer screen.
And I think to myself, "This has to be fate, right? She hasn't visited this profile in .... years. Literally years. This has to mean something, in some miraculous cosmic sense."
I'm staring with a longing so intense, I feel like I'm going to burn a hole directly through my monitor, right into her picture.
Then the right cortex of my brains' frontal cortex engages, and starts churning out actual permutations.
And I arrive to the conclusion almost immediately.
Oh, you fucking idiot. When you rate people, it sends them an email.
You fucking dumbshit.
And now my chill of excitement? The temperature continues to drop; my veins are glaciating, and my stomach feels heavy.
Oh my god.
I'm so fucking stupid.
And so now, here I am, caught with my proverbial pants down. The only goddamn reason I reactivated my account, was so I could comment on Felicia's shit, and now it looks like I'm fishing for a new mate.
Fucking.
Are you kidding me?
Those were actual words that fell out of my mouth.
"Oh my god. Are you kidding me?"
And I'm.
So embarrassed.
My brain is still screaming along at 100+ MpH, and I'm trying to decide what I should do.
Fuck.
What do I do?
I thought about sending her a message; but no, surely her inbox is full from years of goofy guys messaging her in her absence. And WTF would I say? "Hey, uh.... um... hi."?
Then I think about composing and email- tonight- to defend myself.
And then I think about immediately deactivating my account again-- just to keep her from. I don't even know what.
There's no tenable solution.
So instead of doing any of those things, I changed clothes, and drove out to the running trail, and just ran.
And ran and ran.
Ran like I was running from the entire situation, and the most unfortunate of circumstances, caused by my affection for her profile, and my utter lack of foresight.
And while I'm running, I'm thinking about her.
I'm thinking about how she must be feeling, seeing that stupid profile.
I'm wondering if she felt like she was getting punched in the stomach.
Or maybe she chuckled at it.
Maybe she felt relief, and hoped that I was, in fact, looking elsewhere finally.
Maybe she got angry-- righteously mad, thinking I had deliberately scripted the entire thing.
Fucking A.
Re-reading my profile, it seems likely; what with her being listed (honestly) as one of my heroic influences.
Gaaaawwd.
But then. Y'know?
I was like.
No.
Hey. Stop it.
Try to reframe it.
And I thought.
Ok.
How else can I see this?
I can view it as.... that it means something, too, right?
She didn't have to click on the email link that the site sent her. And she didn't have to visit my profile.
And barring for a moment, the possibility that I'm doing that thing again, where I'm just seeing what I want to see?
It has to mean something.
Looking at the bedrock of my emotions, I could see that a layer of sand had begun to partially obscure everything. And I was beginning to grow lax in my active maintenance of cherishing her memory; of cherishing her.
And this fucking ridiculous, retarded, embarrassing situation?
Was just the kick in the face I needed.
I felt my resolve returning, as I ran.
I still have more love to give to her; more things to do for her; more yearning to explore with her; more things to consider about her.
And I was starting to backslide.
So.
I am thankful for in.
I mean, as thankful as you can be, for being as ashamed as I am about the whole thing.
This is very direct evidence as to how smart I'm not, oftentimes.
But. I guess at this point, what I can do, y'know?
All I can try and do is explain myself when I write her that email. Right?
Try to keep it light and admit my embarrassment, and.... let her know that...
Every time I read another woman's profile. Every time I scanned their paragraphs, or looked at their %match, or eyed their sidebar information.
Every. Single. Time.
I rejected every single one of them mentally.
Dismissed them all as inferior to Katie. Immediately.
And it made me long for her so, so deeply.
But how the fuck am I supposed to convey that to her in my email, in a respectful, and non-threatening way?
How am I supposed to convey to her that I haven't just... abandoned my worship of her? That I haven't given up? That, like I swore I would not, haven't "let her go"? And that this whole situation will only cause me to redouble my self-motivated efforts?
It's not like I can just type, "Oh, and hey-- I just want you to know.... I didn't let go of you, in like, my head. Ok? It was just a hilarious misunderstanding! Hahaha! *nervous laughter*"
Ugh.
Just ugh.
The part I find the most interesting, though, is that she didn't delete her profile (I don't think, anyway); it was still there when I checked when I got back from running.
And I like to think.
That maybe she knew.
That I like to lurk around it.
Because it's the last visual manifestation of her I have.
The last words-- shy of her poems and her texts-- that I can read, and re-read.
Even if they are obsolete.
I like to think she left it there to inspire me.
Even if only selfishly-selflessly, and only the tiniest bit.
And I am very grateful, indeed.
I sure miss her.
And love her so, so much.
So much.
11:34 p.m. - 2013-11-18
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