It’s good that Elaine’s not a crackhead. I have some jewelry and would have to change the lock otherwise. Sorry. I was thinking about the time she had sex with another guy on my stoop. I told her I’d never be able to forgive her for it and she freaked out. I spent maybe an hour and a half talking to her through my bedroom window with her at the fence below before she was calm enough for sleep. It was probably then that the chance for anything between us died. I know, this is hardly an obsessive rant. Mistress. And it’s nothing compared to the treatment I’m getting from the neighbors — Ted’s coming by today — but it’s still there. Even if it’s only an aborted relationship, it’s new. I’ve never been in love with a person before. At 47. There was that one hallucination that got and remains shuffled off onto you, but we both know it’s not really you, just indistinguishable in my mind. Then there was Lauren who I loved for three weeks out of loneliness and realized the last day I didn’t. Then there was Grainne but, as my shrink noted, you can’t fall in love when there’s always a hang-up button four inches away, Then, over a period of two and a half years, I fell in love with Elaine.
We still love each other. I’m nearly certain of it. But I need a very large gesture on her part to be giving again and this simply will not happen. She’s not a very good person. My hope was that I could ease her borderline personality disorder enough that she could function better. I even developed a technique, but it looks like I won’t get a chance to try.
Someone in the neighborhood is assertively trying to get together with me. I think she just sort of presumes that I’ll screw Elaine and will move me in so she has the satisfaction of knowing Elaine is spending her evenings with a man she doesn’t love while the man she does is with another woman. If she reaches her hand out far enough, I’m going to take it. I simply don’t have the wherewithal to contact you again. I don’t see it lasting six years, but I’ll probably be on estrogen by the time it’s up and, as a woman, won’t have the wherewithal to contact you again. So, on this trajectory, we won’t see each other again. It’s a shame. You know I view you as the only thing that could make life make sense. 4:53 on a Wednesday in July. You never did feel I was worth taking a chance on. If only I were on a laptop so I could close the lid, right? I’ll always love you so, if you still want me, you never know.
