Got an email moments ago from that very same woman I would have traded everything for:
” I will be going to lunch at 1 today.” 12 minutes to go.
Tried the green chile stew finally today. It’s OK, but I could hardly taste the chile. Karen got the grilled cheese this time, with fries. She looked good, as always. Told her that the new version of Blade Runner is at the Guild theater; I want to see it. She already knew about it. Too bad we couldn’t go see it together. How odd it is to have a friend that likes all the same things, but we can never do anything together, except have lunch at work. I almost blew even that with the flowers. She didn’t look real happy when she came in, but after she told me about completing another Halloween project – the scarecrow burning on a bonfire, and showed me pictures, and talked about that for awhile, she was in a good mood. We talked about movies and she gave me back the Persepolis books I lent her. Neither of us have seen the movie yet. I want to see it. And I know just the person who’d enjoy seeing it, but, sigh, not with me.
Seeing Karen in a good mood, I thought it would be a good time to bring up the flowers. I didn’t want to destroy the mood, but I thought I should bring it up; I knew she wasn’t going to say anything. I asked her if she had been given a really hard time by her family, and she said, no, just that they had kept asking her about them all weekend. I told her I really didn’t have anyone else to give flowers too. I told her that it really made me happy to send the flowers. She said, “Yeah, but it was really inappropriate.” Well, I expected that. Knew it, and knew better than to do something like that, but did it anyway. I already told her in an email last week that I wouldn’t do it again, so there wasn’t much else to say. I told her my theory that maybe they wouldn’t bug her as much about having a boyfriend, but she said something like that just makes things worse.
I think the fire is out for me now, finally. Sure took me awhile to let reality sink in. It’s hard to know for sure, as I don’t feel much of anything right now anyway. It was nice to feel that I was in love – inappropriately – but what do I care? I felt more alive than I had in 30 years. I still like her, and would gladly spend more time with her, but that is never, ever, going to happen. C’est la vie!
How strange it is to know someone I’d have done anything for: get divorced, lose the house I’d worked so hard on, turn my whole life upside down, but it doesn’t matter. That’s the chances we take, huh? I feel a lot like this guy in the picture. Traded my comfortable life for a slim chance at a wild, passionate, free-for-all love, and ended up with nothing, not even a taste of love. And now, now, what do I even want love for? The misanthrope part of me is taking over. Did you know that there are such people as humanitarian misanthropes? Maybe I should strive for that.