I was at the park, earlier today, sitting on a bench next to a baseball diamond. The clouds were floating lazily about, thick and white, and the mosquitos were coming by to snack on my arm. But I had a flash of insight.. or, a sudden compulsion, I should say, to whip my phone out and see if Gina re-activated her account on OkCupid.
She did not.
And I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
Then I looked at our messages, for the first time since writing them, when we first started chatting on there.
She's beautiful. God, was she ever a sweetheart. I'd forgotten how it was when we first met online, and the conversations we were having. So much quality, so much quantity, too. Not like how it was as our relationship progressed and texts began feeling forced and redundant.
Most of the time, whenever I'm chatting with a new person online, I usually ask what sort of guy they are looking for, and I always get the same type of answers:
"Nice."
"Honest."
"Open."
"Caring."
"Kind."
"Smart."
And I'd sort of gloss over them, because women say what women always say, but don't ever mean it. They'll be looking for someone exactly like me, but when we meet it's usually, "oh, sorry, I didn't feel a spark." or, "we don't have chemistry" and these answers always infuriated me. It's so hypocritical, that I've grown numb to hearing what a woman wants and what she has to offer. Nobody actually means what they say, and whenever the moment of truth comes, they hem and haw and throw the chemistry word out there, or sparks, as if that negates all of the positive qualities in me that they claim to be looking for and absolve themselves of the responsibility of standing by their words.
Not Gina.
She was telling the truth, and I am such an idiot. Such a skeptic. That I never really believed her.
She is a good person. So much more than I thought. And if anything, I ended up being the hypocrite in our relationship. I was the one who stopped respecting her, stopped caring as much, started going through the motions and feeling annoyed about her texting so much when I thought I wanted a clear space for me to find inspiration enough to write, and to live my life.
I was so wrong... so, so wrong. To have done what I did. To lose sight of who she is, and who I am, and what exactly is it that I am looking for in a relationship.
I don't know if I can forgive myself for this, but I have resolved to follow rule #10.
#10 - Respect your partner.
Never forget who the person was, when you first met them, and who they want to be. Never forget who you are either, but that's already been covered in earlier posts.
Now I understand why Gina liked looking at my profile so much. She was doing what I wasn't. Keeping in tune with who I am.
I've been putting rule #10 to very good use. My texting game has been stepped up dramatically over the past few weeks, and I no longer care as much about censoring myself or having to impress. I'm very honest and respectful. I just say what I feel, when I feel it. And I don't feel like I'm this character who is witty and charming and funny. I am no longer a character.
I am me.
And, I also realize, that I am a writer. I've dreamed about being one for so long, but I could never really call myself that. Not until today, at least. Because while thinking about Gina, all these thoughts came to mind and I immediately got off the bench, jumped in my car, and drove home so I could put all this down in my blog.
It's important for me to write. Even if I'm struggling with the novel, hoping for a muse that doesn't come as often as I would like. I still have things to say. Things that I feel that I need to get out of myself. And, there's no better medium for expression than the written word, as far as permanence goes.
Sometimes I wonder if I am writing for myself, or for someone else. I don't know. I do know that there is value in some of what I say, and in the things I experience that other people might want to learn about. Or be entertained by. I don't know.
I do know I am a good man.
I am.
And I'm getting choked up right now thinking about how much I do deserve someone like Gina in my life. Right here, right now, to be with me. Maybe, forever.
But I fucked it all up.
If I have to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it, I will. With or without her.
But I don't know how that will be. Maybe I will end up alone on my deathbed sucking air through a tube with a wet pillow behind my head.
Maybe I will die, thinking that I wasted my life. I don't know that either.
But I do know, that I can try. I can keep trying to do what I consider to be my best. Even when it's hard to do so. Especially, when it's hard to do so.
I don't want to fail, anymore.
Later this evening, I'm supposed to be going out on a date with Jen. Some girl off of Plenty of Fish who I already find to be boring, and shallow. Our texts are terrible enough, that I haven't written her more than a handful of them.
But she wants to meet. I did say we would, tonight at 7, at Julio's Barrio on Whyte.
But I don't want to. After reading those messages on OkCupid, I felt a deep sense of shame and regret flood into me.
I still think of her everyday. Not with as much intensity, but.. well, no, with intensity, but not as often.
It comes and goes. Like the rise and fall of the tide. Lapping a cold and lonely shore.
I am a writer.
I am a good person.
I deserve better than Jen.
Or Melissa.
Amy.
Lauren.
Or any of the dozens upon dozens of dumb, immature, broken and crazy women that I have dated and been with.
I deserve better.
God damn it.
I'll do my best.
I have to earn it.
And I've already started.
I think I'm going to cancel the date. No, it probably isn't what I should be doing, because I should be putting myself out there. I like meeting new people, anyways, and learning something new. But... Jen.. All her pictures have her wearing sunglasses in them. And though she claims to be a writer herself, she has been doing a shitty job of demonstrating it through text. There's no soul. No heart. No kindness. No compassion or humor or consideration or willingness to really get to know me.
There is nothing.
Nothing but the face of a woman I have seen a hundred times before.
I think I'm going to cancel.
I don't know what I'll be doing the rest of my evening. I don't play video games much anymore. I don't care about my kill ratio in Battlefront. But, I do enjoy Street Fighter every now and then. I had a really good hour of it with BlavatskysChild, a guy with 4000+ PP that I've grown fond of playing against. Really high level player, and in our conversations, he's as into the occult and spirituality as I am.
I must have won 8 out of the 10 games we played yesterday. I could really anticipate his moves. I knew how to psyche him out. My combos are pretty much non-existent, but I push what I know to the limit. I'm good at working with the few tools I have, and coming up with creative ways of using them.
I bet I can write forever. My mind and my fingers are one, and the words are just coming out. I pause for bits at a time, and I'm immediately rewarded with something to say.
I am a writer.
And I'm writing.
And I'm earning my life.
Because I have to.
