Message to Karen Lopez – 4 mos early


Fluffy_in_an_ambush_by_glooh(Fluffy in an Ambush by Glooh)

Well, I finally managed to put Karen behind me (this drawing is a really good likeness of her, except add tattoos).  I had one last thing to do, and that was write to her, tell her just a little bit of the depth of my depravity.  It was like a final purging.  Of course, I sent it to her main email account, not the one at work, and I think she has me blocked, because she never responds to or acknowledges those emails at all.  She used to forward funny or interesting things to me, but stopped doing that two years ago.  It’s possible she’s just too busy at work, and in all honesty, just doesn’t have time to meet for lunch, but it’s just been too long since we had lunch regularly, and too long in between, and the months go by with just an occasional sighting at work.  When I emailed her at work to ask if she still wanted to have lunch sometimes, she said yes, but she was real busy.   When I ran into her last, asked her about lunch, she said she had just been so busy, and would probably be busy through May. May came and went; June came and went. No word from her, no response to my emails.  Well, c’est la vie.

Hi Karen. I sure miss those Friday lunches, something I looked forward to every week. I always enjoyed them. I loved the way we liked so many of the same things. Sharing videos or books was really fun. I’ve never actually known anyone quite like you, with your preoccupations and obsessions with Babylon 5, Straczynski, and all the anime and manga stories – things I’ve enjoyed for years by myself. I loved hearing about your Halloween preparations, or your nieces and nephew. Loved the way you spoke of them, and enjoyed spending time with them. You have that quality of being able to relate to children, and they like you too. I liked you immediately, and just was amazed to find out how interesting you really were, and how much I liked listening to you. Do you know those Fridays, one hour a week, were the most time I spent with anyone else besides my ex wife? Ha ha. I’m such a dork. When my marriage was crumbling, you were a bright spot in the world for me. Of course, I should never, never have done what I did, which was fall in love with you. The one really good thing about getting divorced was that then I thought we might be able to spend more time doing things like movies, or even, wonder of wonders, dating. Ha ha. Sorry. I told myself how stupid it was; beat myself up over and over for thinking and feeling that way. I just couldn’t stop. You became an obsessive, compulsive infatuation with me. Dreams and fantasies.inuyasha demon and kagome(1) Sigh. I thought about romance, then living together, then marriage, and children. All the while I knew it was impossible, but I couldn’t stop. There were such highs in that fantasy, romantic and erotic, and such lows when I couldn’t be with you. You made it clear that such thoughts were inappropriate, I know. Compliments were inappropriate; asking you out would be, in your words, “Like a date,” and of course that “inappropriate” idea must have horrified you from the way you said it. Just as well we didn’t spend even more time together: I’d have just gotten worse, if that’s possible, so, thanks for that. Why am I writing you ask? Hard to say. It took me a while to climb out of that obsession with you. One day I looked in the mirror long and hard and realized how old I actually looked from your perspective. I had never been bothered by growing old before, until I realized that being my age meant I couldn’t just meet someone, fall in love, and be with them if they were younger, especially way younger. I had honestly never thought of that before I met you. Suddenly I hated being old. Well, going back to why I’m writing: I have gotten over the obsession. I don’t know how; it just stopped one day. Took me years. Ha ha. It’s hard to believe I could have been such an idiot now. Again, I apologize for the inappropriate remarks, attention, flowers, last year’s X-mas card with the money. It’s finally over for me. I still like you of course, always did, always will. It seems you have little need for me anymore, and that’s OK. You have a whole life to live yet. I like living alone now. I’ve gotten used to it. I’m much more withdrawn now, even misanthropic, not wanting much interaction with people anymore. (how emo) Emo I’ve resigned as President of the union. I’m leaving UNM in the fall; Halloween is my last day. I am trying to find a reason for living. I practice guitar,fishrock-large go for hikes in the mountains, play chess, read a lot. I got some medication for depression, and combined with a little counseling, I think I might be coming out of this emo fog. Hate to bare my soul like this; I never wanted to make you uncomfortable around me. Since we don’t work together, it’s rare to run into you, and you’re too busy, or uninterested in having lunch anymore, so I thought I might as well get this off my chest. Again, I stress this: I am over the infatuation. I would like to resume Friday lunches, or some other day, if that’s better for you. I really, honestly, like you, and I won’t mention any of this ever again if you’d prefer not to talk about my insanity. I’ve been reading lots of interesting comics and novels lately, and getting into some old movies. It’d be nice to share again. Discuss books, movies, politics. It’d be great to exchange books and movies again. I totally understand that you would be freaked out by these admissions, so I understand if I don’t hear from you. I don’t even know if you’ll read this. I just felt I had to write it, and couldn’t wait until Halloween to put it in the mail as I planned. Your friend, Terry

Even if Karen reads this, she’ll never acknowledge it. Too weird. She has always had problems with old perverts, so I did my best to keep this to myself, and the people who have read this blog.  At first, I hid most of the blog entries that had to do with Karen. They were so silly, perverted, and too “inappropriate,” for me to post for the world to see anymore, but nothing matters anymore, so I un-hid ’em.  Of course, Karen is almost 29 years old now, and hardly a child, so I’m not that perverted.  I’m just old. Finished. Done.  My life enters a new phase now, but I can’t see the future.

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