One thing I haven’t really admitted to anyone – including myself – is the amount of anger I have for Me2.  I think the big reason I don’t talk about it is because I really don’t think I have the right to be angry.  In so many ways, I’ve caused this situation and so it’s rather unreasonable for me to disregard someone else’s feelings and then be angry when they don’t respond the way I’d like.

But the truth of the matter is that no one can or should take all of the blame.  Things in interpersonal relationships are never all one way – or all black and white.  That was one of the things Me2 expressed in our online relationship.  When I’d talk about the situation with “The Songwriter” and express my remorse, he was more than willing to give me the out that so many others had – how I was young, how it wasn’t intentional, how I did the best that I could, etc. etc. etc. 

While it was important for me to hear that, it also has made me angry.  Angry that he’s able to give reasons why I should forgive myself for things that he – once he knew who I was – was unable to forgive me for (if you can follow that, good luck to you).

Oh, but this has also made me angry at other things.  Angry that this person could have what he professes to be such deep feelings for “me” is unable to get past his feelings for me (from 2 decades ago) to go with it.  Angry that he was never able to express himself to me the way he expressed himself to “me”.

But, most of all, I’m angry that he had the opportunity to live out a fantasy, a Hollywood ending that almost nobody ever gets the chance to, and he walked away from it. 

Now, I certainly am not implying that this could have been some perfect love story.  I’ve actually thought about what would have happened had we actually gotten over this little speed bump (he says with more than a tad of sarcasm).  The truth of the matter is, I’m not even remotely sure that dating would have been any more successful this time around than the last time.  I think the odds could have been more favorable if for no other reason that we’re older and, hopefully, wiser and able to communicate better.

But it’s also possible that had this gone further, that open and honest communication might not have been quite as free.  It’s possible that we are both too different or set in our ways to be able to co-exist.  It’s possible that we’d get to know eachother as real people and feel that it wasn’t quite the match it appeared to be.

That said, there are positive possibilities as well.  And the tragedy of this situation is that we will not know.  And that makes me angry.  And it makes me sad.  For both of us.

And, in some way, I feel responsible for snatching that possibility away from him.  Not that I wasn’t open to it.  But because after opening up a side of him that he had closed off, my revelation prompted him to slam that door shut.  Again, I can take the blame because I can also take the credit.  I have to believe that the feelings he expressed, the synchronicisty he was feeling, the almost combustible chemistry that was forming was all real. 

I could also choose to believe that it was all a lie on his part.  That he didn’t find me hysterically funny.  That he wasn’t thinking some of the same things I wrote in letters.  That he wasn’t attracted to the personality, the opinions, the views, and the soul that was bared in those letter.  I could choose to think that he was only interested in a hot guy whose photo he saw and was willing to say or do anything to get into his pants.  Sure, I could choose to believe that.  But I don’t.

Years ago, he told me that I hear what I want to hear.  That I take what’s convenient out of a conversation and gloss over the stuff I didn’t want to accept.  Well, maybe he’s projecting.  Because this time around, the entire relationship was in print.  And I read every single word.  I heard every single word.  And I believe it.

But I shouldn’t be surprised.  The first time, yes, I absolutely pushed and pushed and pushed until he pushed me away.  And even then, he only asked for time and I pushed yet alittle more – until he was completely spent and said he was done.  OK.  See?  Taking responsibility.  Recognizing perhaps that I was young, emotionally immature, blah, blah, blah.  Got it.

HOWEVER – that last real conversation ended with him saying (paraphrasing): “If, in a month, you have really gotten help and want to talk about this, I’ll talk to you.”  Now, yes, I took that and ran – mind racing, we could get back together, everything would be right with the world.  But make no mistake – for that month, that entire month, he did not hear a peep from me.  Not a single conversation, letter, card, nothing. 

Now, again, I am not referring to any notes here – but there is the slightest possibility that a week after this conversation I may have left him a message at home when I knew he’d be at work, asking him to check my phone line to see if the phone company actually turned my line off.  And I believe he called me back when he knew I wouldn’t be home to say that he checked the line and it was off.  That may or may not have been during this one month of silence.  I’m not sure.  But if so, that would have absolutely been it.

Now, come on – do you know how hard it would have been for me (yes ME) to not call and stay away for a month???  IMPOSSIBLE!!!  It was hell.  It was also incredibly helpful.  It was something I needed to do.  And I did work with a therapist during this time.  And I did make some very teensy baby steps.

It didn’t hurt that for the last week of this month I was in Milan.  That was also horrible.  It should have been amazing, but in truth I was a wreck over this.  And Milan in Jan/Feb is incredibly cold, bleak, miserable.  For years and years, any time people would talk about Milan, I’d say what a horrible city it is and how inhospitable it was.  Yes, I blamed Milan for everything. 

But while I was there, the month was up.  Before leaving the States, I bought a kitchy postcard which was a closeup (I believe) of a watch on some guy’s wrist.  And I wrote on the flip side, “According to my watch, it’s been a month.”  Yes, I know, I know – pathetic.  I said something about leaving for Milan, but would love to talk when I got back and asked for him to leave a message on my machine if that was OK…because apparently I felt like I needed permission to call him after he said he’d talk to me.

Nothing.  No message.  I think I did call and left a message or two, which prompted a message back saying that he never promised we’d talk and why don’t I just leave him alone.  That did serve one purpose – it initiated the anger phase of that break-up 😉  Until then, I think I was really caught up in blaming myself, beating myself up, all that crap.  And then, after I did something incredibly difficult for me, it was dismissed. 

But I think even then, I didn’t really express the anger.  I didn’t even allow myself to feel it.  Rest assured, it came out – usually at the least opportune times.  But none of it was good.