Tom's Love Quest

Dear [Prism],

As the session wound down, I found myself fondly thinking of you. The meals became the high points of the day because despite that noisy dining hall, I knew I’d see you there, and this made enduring the racket a joy.  You were much more pleasant too.  After your fall, you treated me as more of an equal, even offering that me fetching [Emmy’s] food, would be okay with you. 

Did you notice that I’d always smile your way as we’d pass each other?  I promise that this was totally involuntary; a sort of lovers reflex if you will.  I was not faking.  For the remaining time at camp, seeing you charged me up, and that felt wonderful.  I’d seen the good side of someone who at first seemed so nasty. 

Our First Dance

One complaint I’ve made about camp is that the counselors are usually too busy to socialize much with campers.  Also, there’s that camp rule which forbids employees from romantically involving themselves with campers.  I learned of this in the late 1990s, when I met a counselor who caught my eye.  I caught hers too, so she said.  But after a few days as I remember, the camp director himself called her into his office, warming her that she was not to spend so much time with me, and that she should not let me play with her pony tail besides.  In fact, it was them seeing me twirling her locks in my fingers that triggered the summons.  Understandably, she grew distant after that; fearing that most any further interaction with me would jeopardize her job.  I understood.  But seeing her every day saddened me; knowing that I couldn’t hold her hand.  Then, she’d avert my gaze, which hurt even worse, and soon, I couldn’t tell if her coolness was because she wished not to lose her position, or because she simply lost interest in me.  That goofy camp policy therefore, caused me much sorrow.  Talk about systemic segregation!  I mean, why would camp officials so underestimate campers’ adult autonomy by attempting to restrict their potential social experiences that way?  Perhaps the biggest reason I came back to camp in 1995 was the hope to meet some eligible, main-stream ladies. Then, to learn that such interaction is forbidden by the camp suggested that the sort of segregation I’d come to camp to get away from, was just as strong there as anywhere else. 

Fortunately however, there are times when the camp activity structure allows for and encourages campers and counselors to mingle together.  Perhaps the best of these is the dinner dance which is traditionally held on the last night of camp. 

That warm and hazy afternoon as I wheeled my speakers down the hill to the K pavilion, I passed you a few times; I had to restrain myself from saying hi after the first time.  I would have uttered it at every encounter, you know, if I’d known that this would not have put you off.  Heaven knows, I certainly wanted to say it.

Then, the dance part of the evening arrived, and I resolved to invite you to dance, no matter how scared I was to do it.  I was scared too, but figured that the fact that I was the disc jockey for the evening might give me some pull with you.  I don’t know if it did or not.  But nonetheless, this thought bolstered my confidence as I walked up to you as the third song of the evening played; a slow love tune.  You held my gaze and did not look away, and at that instant, all fear of asking you went away, for I knew somehow that you’d say yes, and you did.  Then, we danced, and what a dance that was. 

Now, ever since we met, I had marveled at your statuesque height.  But this was the closest to you I’d ever been, and I must admit that you being so much taller, up-close anyhow, disconcerted me at first; what, with the top of my head barely reaching your chin and all.  Looking up into your eyes felt just like gazing up into the stars, for more than one reason.  But I also found having to tilt my head up and back more than usual, most exciting.  Thus, only a minute into our first dance, I wanted to ask you for another, and another, and another, …  I enjoyed your left arm, draped over my shoulder blades, and your soft and warm fingers of your right hand, intertwined with those of my left hand.  In fact, I did ask you as each song faded off, and you said yes, every time!   Thanks.

In fact, after three dances in a row, it was me who said, “Well, I hate to end this for now, because I’d better get back to [Emmy] (my date for the evening) and see how she’s doing.”  Wishing not to press my luck, I figured I’d better stop before you did, because had it been you that proposed to end our dance set first, I think I’d have been a little hurt. 

You agreed, saying, “Yes, I suppose I should dance at least once with my date too.”  But you sounded as though you’d have really rather stayed with me.  Encouraged, I felt the same of you.  Indeed, I would have danced with you through each an every one of the nearly fifty pieces we spun that night.  Like Cinderella’s prince, I’d have danced until morning shone through the trees with you, watching your eyes listening to you tell some of your life story, and holding you close all the while.  I’d have led you around every path through the camp that the music reached, just as he guided her through the far reaches of his castle, into the wee hours.  Of you, I felt just as the prince probably regarded Cinderella; totally captivated. 

This new sensation of looking way up to see my dance partner’s face was unusual.  It humbled me, and I’ve only ever experienced it a handful of times.  But I liked it, and couldn’t get enough.  As it happened though, we stopped dancing after nearly thirteen minutes; tradition and protocol had intervened because we had to do right by our dates after all.  I offered to look you up for another dance later, and you said softly yet enthusiastically, “Sure!”  Then, you walked away, taking my heart with you, where it stayed for the rest of the dance.

The Middle Dances, Apart

Now came the hard question: How soon would be soon enough, but not too soon, to ask you to dance again?  This hovered in my mind until we swayed to the music once more, an hour and a half later, and in spite of the very beautiful young lady who was my “official” date for the evening, thoughts of you, holding me so close that I could feel your heart beating, occupied my head more than anything else.  After enjoying your arms surrounding me, I was hooked, and had to feel it again.

As I played the music, I’d scan the floor with my eyes, looking for you; trying to tell what ditties you most liked by how often you’d appear, and watching for whether you smiled or frowned as you heard them.  But you didn’t dance very much?  Apparently, dancing was not a big passion of yours.  Indeed, I only saw you out there a couple times with your date, and no one else.  This was good because while on the one hand, I hoped you’d “cut the rug” more so I could see you more, on the other, I was understandably glad that you remained on the side lines, without dancing a lot with anyone else.  I so wished to be the one you danced with the most at this event, and, as it went, I was.  

When I did spot you on the floor, I’d steal frequent glances.  If I happened to be dancing with another, I’d face her back to you, so that I could thus peer over her shoulders, to admire the prettiest girl in attendance.  Hands down, that was you. 

Nor did I dance very often myself; sensing that these interim encounters wouldn’t be as fun as the ones you and I enjoyed earlier, or the ones coming up that we’d planned. Good thing that I was the one controlling the music, because I could play the stuff I found the most uplifting, to keep the feelings of missing and longing for you at bay. 

You seemed not to be enjoying yourself either; though you did say you were very tired earlier. This final social event gave me the same impressions.  In fact, while I was grateful to have my date there to talk to, to me, this entire night, except where I danced with you, was essentially a bust.  I was bored and frustrated at the prevailing conventions that separated us.  Why were there always so many rules and norms that had to be followed?  Though necessary (I know), they way more often keep me from the women I desire than bring them to me. Whenever I’d see you, I’d check the time, looking for some assurance that it would now be okay to saunter over and take your hand again. 

Our Last Dances

Finally, at around 9:00 PM, the time was right to seek you out.  I wanted this dance to last at least twenty minutes, and since you announced your intensions earlier to leave at 9:30 sharp, my urgency to reach you now was aptly placed.  So I walked around the pavilion, searching, hoping that people would think that I was just checking the speakers, and wouldn’t see through my DJ technician disguise. 

Shortly, I found you, amongst a bunch of campers, and approached you from behind. You being the tallest girl at the dance, finding you was a veritable snap.  All I had to do was to look over top of the other campers and counselors. to spot your shoulder-length dishwater blond-clad head.  In this way, I always knew if you were dancing, and with whom. 

You must have seen me coming because when I slid my hand into yours without a word, you turned and silently followed me onto the open cement.  You did not object to being led away, and no doubt expected that I’d be returning at some point.  Nonetheless I worried a trifle, though you had agreed to this dance earlier.  I thought that you might be put out at my audacity; given our history prior to your fall.  But that little mishap changed everything between us; destroying all remnants of the vibes of condescension and conceit that I so often picked up from you in 2008, and early in this 2009 session.  Had I known that all it would take was some genuine compassion and concern to soften you, I’d have offered it up much sooner; perhaps even in 2008.  For the first time since knowing you, you genuinely respected me; talking to me with the same animation and interest that I was you.  That made forgiving you for all the scolds and child-like, custodial-style treatment, quite simple. 

We’d already begun slow dancing when I asked you if you wanted to dance, just to make sure that I hadn’t overstepped any boundaries.  Yes, my timing leaves something to be desired occasionally; particularly when I’m a little flustered as I was then.  Not nervous really; just happy in a giddy sort of way.  But to be safe, I asked again, albeit belatedly.  You smiled and said yes, though I’m sure that you were thinking, “Of course.  I’m out here, aren’t I?” 

As the music played on, we talked much more than I thought we would, and I was thankful that I could preprogram the songs list on the computer, so I’d not have to return to the DJ table as every song ended in order to start the next one. 

You said you were studying to be a history teacher, and I replied that while I’d never been interested in history as a young student, I now find it more pleasing; particularly Civil War accounts and civil rights issues.  You asked about my DJ business, wondering how long I’d been working it and whether I liked it.  Then, you nodded knowingly as I explained that I wasn’t crazy about it overall because the pay is not that good and offers few advancement opportunities in this area.  Also, hauling the equipment around worries me that I’ll hurt myself, and then have to pay a prized sum to some doctor to heal me.  We talked of our mutual college experiences too; you appeared pleasantly surprised to learn that I hold a bachelor’s degree in computer science and that I worked as a software engineer for nearly fifteen years.  We have more in common that either of us imagined.

But you really threw me when you revealed that you were but nineteen years old.  Wow, I’d have never guessed you to be that young; thinking you to be in your late twenties or early thirties.  It’s not that you looked that old.  So perhaps it was the edgy and arrogant assertiveness I perceived from you in our early days, that made you seem much older.  Why so?  When you scolded me to turn down the music the first Sunday of this session, you reminded me of a house mother I had in elementary school.  She was in her sixties, and ruled her students through intimidation, and lots of punishment threats and control tactics.  Her and her husband scared me so much and so often that year, that I began associating this cranky behavior with older folks; wrongly so of course.  But as an eleven year-old, I knew no better, and possessed few contradictory memories of similar folks.  If they’re mean I came to believe, they’re probably old as well. 

However, for the most part, at least intellectually, I’ve long-since overcome this wrong-headed thinking.  But every now and again, when someone’s antics resemble that housemother’s too much, I catch myself thinking of them as old; just like her.  So at first, right or wrong, I imagined you to be older than you were.

Yet learning of your not-so-advanced age enabled me to forgive you for the grumpy evasiveness I sensed from you the first half of the session.  Though I’ll never completely dismiss your treatment of my friends and I as a mere product of childhood innocence (it was too mean for that actually), in your defense, maybe you had not yet learned to ask more questions before so harshly judging others.  You appeared to assume all too quickly that we could not possibly possess anything you want, and thus were simply not worthy of your consideration, much less your kindness.

Though your initial attitude hurt my feelings a lot, recognizing that I might have behaved much like this at your age, quelled my anger a little.  After all, this unjustified devaluation of others is an all-too-easy mistake for a young adult to make; especially if she has little experience probing and relating to us handicapped folks.  I hope our conversations after your fall convinced you that people in general, handicapped or not, are in fact quite worthy of you.  They care just as deeply, and require just as much caring themselves as anyone else does.  When they get that, they feel more confident.  With increased self-assuredness, they usually become the very sorts of happily engaging people of depth, that so many say they want to find.   Indeed, would you not agree that once you deemed me as closer to your equal that our conversations grew much more enjoyable?  They certainly did for me.   

But then, maybe you didn’t see yourself as better than us.  Instead, perhaps you doubted your ability to make others happy through kind acts; underestimating just how far a little compassion from you might go toward creating a welcoming atmosphere for the campers.  Sometimes, people who think themselves unattractive behave as though not a soul would like them, no matter how nicely they behave.  Then, they opt to dispense with kindness, since they believe it won’t get them anywhere anyhow.  I hope though, that you recognize the powerful, positive effect you can have, and in fact, had.  Indeed, after your fall, your change of heart where I was concerned, made the last half of the session so much more pleasant than the first part. 

These realizations along with your subtle beauty, which grew more apparent each minute we talked, drove any hostility away that had accrued in my heart in the days prior to your fall.  It could be, I thought, that as a young woman, you genuinely did not know how much a brash tongue can hurt, or how completely a kind word can heal. But once we got into our dancing this year, you seemed to understand this better, as I heard not one cross word from you since.   

We danced the twenty minutes that I’d hoped for, and then some. In fact, as each song ended, I anticipated your pulling away.  But you didn’t.  I wondered with a hopeful edge how many dances you’d stay, and decided that if you weren’t going to leave, then neither was I.  So, we kept going, and going, and going. 

However, manners prevailed, and we saved the last piece for our respective dates.  As before, I wanted that dance with you too, but knew I shouldn’t be so selfish.  So, we parted; neither of us particularly happy to do it.

Without a doubt, after you left it wasn’t fun anymore.  While I remained and played requests for the campers an additional hour, all the “electricity” had gone with you, and it was clear that the best part of the evening had already passed, and that things would all be downhill from that point on.  That is in fact, how they turned out. 

Thanks so much for a wonderful time.  I’m so glad we could put our differences aside for one night because in your embrace, I found acceptance and respect, and not the usual rejection and aloofness I get so much from other girls.  You acknowledged and esteemed me, and that pleased and excited me. 

But, were you just being polite?  Admittedly, I often mistake common courtesy from a lady for romantic interest.  So did I do that here?  I hope not.  But if so, I wish you’d still be nice just the same!  If we can’t get together in that way, tell me.  Don’t just run away or cut me off without a word because, if those feelings aren’t in your heart, I’ll mention my interest in you no more, will interpret your good opinion platonically, and read nothing more into it.  I will not campaign to “win you over” if you say you don’t like me like that.  Absolutely, I can be good friends with women to whom I’m attracted, but who are not attracted to me.  I don’t blame them for not wanting me, and I respect their wishes so long as they clearly voice them.  Though I’d welcome additional benefits, I could be very happy if we were to be just friends.  How about you? 

Tom Hesley

Related Posts

• I Hated, Then Liked Prism
• Introducing Prism
• Other Pieces About Prism
• Tom’s Diary –> Today’s Business: 2010-04-23

Dear [Prism],

It appeared after the first half of the 2009 camp session (details here), that you and I would never be friends.  You seemed as cold as ever, and I was as irritated at you for that, as ever. 

But then at lunch on Thursday, someone spilled a cup of water on the floor near the food counter up front.  I noticed the shiny puddle as I was leaving and moved to step around it.  At the same time, I also saw you coming toward me, and was about to call out to you to steer away.  But I was too late.  Your foot landed square in the middle of that mess, and in less than a second, you went down; your feet slipping completely out from underneath you with lightning speed, and you fell, landing with a thud.  As you descended, I watched in this frozen horror, that surprised me, and my right arm instinctively reached out to cushion your fall.  But I was too far away, and couldn’t reach you before you hit the floor.  It was like watching a scary movie, and I gasped audibly as this horrific scene unfolded.  I don’t know why.  But in that instant that you were completely off of the floor, I realized that I did not want to see anything happen to you.  I’d have done anything I could to save you.  Perhaps I had developed a crush on you in spite of  how you’d treated me thus far.  This could explain that sudden urgency to protect you that I experienced.  Strange. 

As you fell, for a brief moment our eyes met and I sensed that you saw the fear and sadness in my face, which I think surprised you just as it did me.  I mean, each of us was certainly not the other’s favorite person.  Until then, I actively disliked you.  But as I watched you fall, this overwhelming need to guard you against harm welled up inside me, along with a stinging fear of the injuries you might suffer, should you land on the cement the wrong way.  In that moment, all my accumulated bad feelings for you vanished.  Our negative history suddenly became trivial.  Then, with all of my heart, I wanted more than anything to keep you from falling, and I felt a momentary yet extreme despair when I found that I couldn’t. 

After you hit, I watched you more intently than I’ve ever watched even the most engrossing films.  Were you okay, and what could I do to help?  Fortunately, you were fine, and got back up on your feet quickly.  But while you squatted, as you stood back up, you looked up at me and said quietly, “I’m okay,” as if to reassure me.  Your tone indicated humility and sincere appreciation over my concern.  I’d never seen this much-softer side of you that I must say,  mesmerized and captivated me. 

Our eyes met again, and I did not want to break the contact.  You smiled and seemed a little embarrassed; I thought I noticed you blushing.  I got the idea that our historically stormy association had just been transformed into a calmer, more pleasant friendship in the future.

That moment was magical for me because in it, you changed in my eyes from this easily hated and ugly person, into a beautiful woman.  Your softer side enthralled me, and it made it easy to forgive you for any hurt that you’d caused previously.  It made me curious about you too, and eager to come to each meal to see you; an activity that I’d heretofore dreaded.  Your smile, as you picked yourself up, made me fall. 

You changed too, didn’t you?  From that point on, gone was your harshness (or at least, it was highly subdued).  In fact, [Emmy] noticed that your heart had softened a little.  She said this to me at Bill’s party on the hill last night.  How about that crazy thunderstorm that almost ruined the party?  I’ve got the sniffles today.  But you liked the LED Christmas lights I’d strung up, saying that they were “a nice touch.”  I believe that this was the first time that you’d ever complemented me, and I liked it and wanted more.   Thanks for “turning around” a little.  Your softer side made the rest of the session much more enjoyable. 

The story continues   here.

Tom Hesley

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• Oh No, Prism Is Back
• Other Pieces About Prism
• Our Second Dinner Dance
• Prism 2008
• Rethinking The Plusses Of Beauty

Dear [Prism],

Imagine my surprise this past summer when I got to camp and learned that you were back, given how little you seemed to enjoy working at the camp last year.

I didn’t know it was you right away.  Remember, I saw you guarding the door to the infirmary on the first day of this 2009 session, and came over to introduce myself.  I did not recognize you; not even close up.  So to me, you were a stranger about whom I was curious in a friendly sort of way.  Yet you promptly blew me off with those customarily short and non-voluntary sounding answers that so colored my impressions of you last year.  I tried conversing.  But you weren’t interested.  So I walked off after two or three exchanges.  But still, I knew not who you were. 

Then, a few hours later, a long-time friend happened by, saying that he’d seen us talking.  He knew of the problems you and I had in 2008, and so, was amazed that we were chatting at all.  He wanted to know if we’d made up.  I asked him what he meant.  What problems?  I’d just met this woman today, I told him.  Then he asked if I knew that the person at the infirmary door was you, [Prism]. “No!” I said.  But then as I thought about it, it made more sense.  The personality of [Prism] from 2008, was identical to the lady’s whom I’d just met some hours ago.  He was correct.  That grumpy woman from last year, and this curt stranger I just met, were both you.  Well, I thought, I guess I’ll know who to avoid this session if I want to keep my blood pressure down. 

But fate permitted no separation, did it, because in the dining room for the first supper meal of the session, there you were, assigned to serve food at my table.  Damn!  Since after the first meal, the seat assignments were fixed, I was stuck with you for the whole eleven days, and we’d have to see each other at least thee times a day; once for each meal.  The prospects for having a good time at camp this year just got a whole lot worse once I realized how often I’d have to deal with you.  This wasn’t going to be fun.

But we got along without any serious incidents for the next day or so, until Sunday night, when you demanded that I turn down the music we were playing up on the hill.  “Turn that down,” you scolded.  “A little more…,”  “a little more…,”  “That’s good.  Now, it needs to be low enough that it can only be heard in this immediate area, and it must be completely shut off at midnight.”  Of course no one was sleeping in the H cabins where we were, as it was only 9:00 PM, and the next closer quarters were the L cabins, a couple hundred feet down the hill.  I turned it down as you requested, though your rationale escaped me.  I was irritated with you to put it as kindly as I can yet still be truthful. 

Through the first half of the session, our interactions were typically like this; you were hard, I was cold, you were condescending, I got fired up, and so on.  So by the time the Wednesday of the Belleville trip arrived, I’d had it with you, and couldn’t even bring myself to make brief eye contact as we passed each other.  As I saw it, your behavior was mean and lacked any traces of compassion, and it suggested so loudly that you thought that you were so much better than us lowly campers. 

Okay, I’m done bashing you for a while.  I promise.  Things did improve between us I thought.  Details   here.

Tom Hesley

Related Posts

• Prism 2008
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Dear [Luwella],

Well, after two foot parties, we finally got to do sessions at this past one. You’re the 19 year-old foot model who just moved to Harrisburg. We’d heard that you would not be back, but it’s good that you made an exception in July. I had wanted to meet you at the other parties but all the sessions I did with [Linda] then made me rather unavailable. I am sorry you and I didn’t connect sooner. It was so nice to finally spend an hour with you. You made me laugh; especially when I’d look at you for a long time without saying anything. Then you’d say, “What? What?!?” Then you’d smile. You’re funny, and that made me smile too.

I almost didn’t recognize you since you didn’t wear your glasses this time. Glasses often make people appear less attractive. But not in your case. Yours are cute; they make you look like some sophisticated office secretary or business executive.

You said that you probably wouldn’t make it to very many parties in the future due to your work schedule and the distance you must drive now. But I hope you do get back periodically. Good luck with your new modeling jobs.

Take care.

Tom Hesley

Dear [Terra],

Hey, thanks for speaking to my friends on My Telespace at the VIP foot party the other night. You sounded really cute when I listened to your message later, and they enjoyed hearing you describe our session. Perhaps we can do that again at another party.

Glad you made it in July. Wasn’t sure if you’d return, since you missed the June party. But you came back, and that was nice.

Also, thanks for taking a peak at my blogs. Being an English major, I bet you’d have some thoughtful and thought-provoking comments to make. But if you don’t feel like saying anything profound, just say hi. I’d welcome any comments, no matter how short.

You know, you’re the first lady I did sessions with at my first foot party. You helped get all this started for me. Thanks for showing me how these parties work, and for making sure that [Jack] gets his food and drink. He really appreciates you helping him out. You know?

Do send along some of your “dark fiction” as you describe it. I’d love to read it and give you my amateur comments.

I liked your advice on how to view the foot parties; as recreation and not so much as hunting grounds. Perhaps that will help in the future to slow my falling for those remarkably beautiful women like [Linda]. Still though, love at first sight (LAFS), when it comes, is quite a powerful thing. So I fear, regardless of how I view these parties that should another [Linda] come along, that I’d probably fall just as quickly. We’ll see.

The thing is though: I like falling quickly because the quicker I fall, the longer those love feelings are likely to last. Click here for a discussion on that.  Since I want lasting love, then as I see it, falling quickly is not the problem. In fact, it’s what I most want to do, even though it often results in painful and premature breakups. 

The real problem is finding someone who falls for me just as quickly, and as deeply. It sure would be nice to be in sync with my partners for a change, when it comes to love. But until that happens, I’ll just keep trying.   

I sense that when one searches for love in earnest, that he cannot avoid the hurt of rejection. The more he wants a true love, the more vulnerable to true love he is, and thus, the more pain he’s likely to encounter as the folks he most desires turn him down.  Indeed, the love quest is all about laying your heart on the table and being willing to risk intense pain for the rewards of intense pleasure.  As far as I can tell, people who take too many steps to avoid pain are also reducing the pleasure they might enjoy if they were less guarded and stand-offish. In short: When you avoid the pain, you also avoid the pleasure. 

Pain and pleasure go together, and so it’s hard to have one without the other.  So while our histories of past hurts may compel us to steer away from those for whom we feel the most vulnerable, we should resist this compulsion.  Why?  Because the more jaded we become, the more closed off we are to true love.  Instead, the more vulnerable we feel ironically, the closer we ought to allow ourselves to get.  We should seek out (rather than avoid) those who could hurt us the most, because these people are also the most likely to give us the greatest joy.  The signs of potential pain are also the signs of potential pleasure. 

Now I’m not saying that we should seek out the pain per se.  But I do suggest that we should embrace (rather than avoid) those souls that make us feel the most vulnerable.  True.  They could hurt us.  But they could also make us happier than we’ve ever been before.  So no, this is not masochism.  We’re not seeking out the pain for the pain itself.  Rather, we’re seeking the pleasure while realizing that the pain goes along with it and that we must be most vulnerable to be the most pleased.  So this is just a way of maximizing our potential satisfaction in love. There’s no such thing as a “safe path” in the love quest.  You can’t win this quest while seeking refuge from its pains. So with all that said, I’m not sure how to apply your advice at the parties to greatest advantage.  The fact is: My dearest dream is to find true love, and I can’t turn that off, no matter the venue.  I’m always looking for true love, even when I tell myself that I shouldn’t be.  It’s my nature.  Further thoughts from you on this would be welcome.

Yes. I agree with you.  [Miss Independent]   is very cute. She could be as alluring as [Linda]. But I’m a bit gun shy at this point, and so I’m afraid to acknowledge the extent of my attraction. But you’re right. [Miss Independent]   is quite beautiful and charming. and I do hope to see her again.  I’ve invited her to come here to my blogs and contact me if she desires.  Hopefully, she will.

Anyway, have a great summer. [Jack] and I are planning to attend the September VIP party. So if you’re there, we’ll see you then.

Take care.

Tom Hesley

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Dear [Linda],

Nice to see you again at the July foot party. You were as beautiful there as the first time I saw you back in early May.  We didn’t do any sessions this time, though I so wanted to.

I hoped for messages from you all through June that never came, even though you told me last time that you wanted to continue talking through email. No. You don’t care. I must keep telling myself that. You don’t care. You don’t care.   You don’t care.

Now if I didn’t have to worry about hurting my heart, I’d have done a three hour session with you just as we did in June. But I couldn’t do it given how much more attracted to you I am, than you are to me. I’m on the short end of this stick and I don’t like it. I accept that you don’t care, and I expect nothing more from you. But I still don’t like it. Doing sessions with you would make me want you more, and then hurt more as well.  They’d remind me again that you don’t really want me. While I can use my gifts to get you to treat me warmly for the duration of a session, you’ll never love me just for me I’m afraid. Additional sessions would make it easy to forget the cold reality that you just don’t care.

I accept that though; I knew that these were the conditions I had to agree to when attending these parties; that the women generally don’t care. Yet I hoped that you’d be that one-in-a-million lady that would be moved by more about me than just the gifts I bear. But you weren’t. Well now, I’m wiser about keeping my emotions under control when I meet similar beautiful ladies at these parties. I probably won’t fall so quickly the next time the wave comes along and wants to make me high on love, because I’ll doubt that the woman really cares.

I was sorry to learn that you left much earlier than you typically did when we were doing our marathon sessions. I think [Jack] told me that you departed well before midnight this time. For a second, I gloated. You know: That’s what she gets for not wanting me; fewer gifts and shorter party nights. That’s what she gets for not caring. Ha ha. Ha ha. But I quickly caught myself because I do care. I blame you not for what you do not feel, and want you to be happy as well. Then I felt sad that your night didn’t go better.

It’s also incomprehensible that other guys didn’t spend more time with you. Aside from   [Miss Independent], you’re still the prettiest lady there; the prettiest lady there but who just doesn’t care. It’s for that reason that I must avoid you. I could so easily fall again if we spend too many sessions together. There’s just something about your energy and essence that rings throughout my soul and I fully believe that this will never change.  Just as steel will always be drawn to a magnet, so too will I always be drawn to you. Everything is just so right about you, for me,  for falling in love.  But I can’t risk that again. So ironically, because you’re so wonderful, I must steer clear. I must resist the draw. 

Love gets so complicated when one or the other cares not, doesn’t it?  What drew me to you initially now keeps me far away because beauty and indifference are a deadly combination for the guys who desire you.  They make for lonely hearts when a lady is so stunning yet so care free.  So I avoid you now because you’re so beautiful yet do not care.  I’m protecting me.

Take care.

Tom Hesley

Dear [Vicki],

Nice meeting you at the July 3rd, 2009 VIP foot party. You said you teach physical education and that this was your second party. Welcome aboard!

Thanks for being so friendly and cheerful, and the folks on that chat line I had you speak to over my cell phone appreciated your message. They thought you had a hot voice.

I’m glad you caught up to me for that second session later in the night. I hope to see you at other parties and wish you much success in your new career.

Take care,
Tom Hesley

20:59 on July 3rd, 2009, [Jack] and I arrived at the party location.  We were later than usual this time because we had to ride to North Philly to pick up a lady near 23rd and Dauphin and drive her to tenth and Dauphin.  Up there, the streets are so windy and short that the drive had trouble finding her street on his map.  But no matter.  We still made it in time.

20:55 [Linda] arrived, beautiful as ever.  Seeing her made me question my resolve not to do any sessions with her tonight.  I worried that if we did sessions, that I’d once again want her too much, and fall in love all over again.  Yet forgetting those concerns got easy when she appeared.

21:00 Doors opened.

21:10 Met a new lady, [Vicki]. She’s a physical education instructor, and we did a couple sessions, and even used the same room that [Linda] and I spent nearly three hours in at the last party.  Though [Vicki] was very polite and accommodating, I still missed [Linda].  I would have enjoyed doing three more hours with[Linda].  But over the last month, she wrote me not once, and appears not to have read my letters written in June on this blog.  (She said that she didn’t know that [Jack] and I would be attending this party, though I posted this almost two weeks ago.) Yep, I get it now.  She doesn’t feel for me any of what I feel for her.  So, as long as she appears so beautiful, I’d best avoid her to protect my heart.  I hate lopsided loving (where I love them but they don’t love me back).  I’ve done it too often before and my feelings suffered because of it.  I hate that all-too-familiar pain.  So while there’s still weakness for [Linda], I’d best avoid her beyond the common courtesies like saying hi and goodbye.  Good thing   [Miss Independent]   was there because she and [Linda] are equally attractive.  More on   [Miss Independent]   later.

21:30  [Vicki] and I said goodbye.  I liked her.  She had beautiful legs and an inviting smile, and would probably make a great friend.  But I felt no connection.  Oh well, there are lots of others to meet.  In fact, many of the girls here tonight are brand new; they’ve never worked a foot party before.  Hmm.  There’s [Linda] near the food table.  Should I ask here for a session?  No.  I won’t.

21:40 As I strolled around the main lounge, I noticed   [Miss Independent]  standing near the main entrance, near [Linda].  So I approached her and she greeted me with a smile and a hug.  She remembered me and we went back to the green room, where we spent two hours together.  More on that in an upcoming separete letter.

00:00 Finished up with   [Miss Independent]   and returned to the main lounge.  I scanned the room for [Linda] but she was not there.  Perhaps she was in a session with someone else.  The thought of that stung a little but I didn’t care too much; not after having just been so indulged by  [Miss Independent].  Still though, [Linda] will be tough to forget.  But I am determined.  That should get easier though, now that I’m certain that she doesn’t care.

00:15 Met up with [Jack] in the main lounge.  He said that [Linda] had left a good while earlier.  I don’t imagine that she had as good a night this time, since I didn’t do any long sessions with her. 

00:20 [Terra] joined [Jack] and I, and the three of us enjoyed a little pop, chips, crackers, and conversation.  [Terra] fetched food and drink for [Jack], and then talked with me about this blog.  She has read it, although not since early May.  She says that she’s eager to read the followup posts regarding [Linda].  I hope she stops by again and leaves a few comments. 

00:30 [Terra] and I did a session.  I got her to leave a message out on My Telespace so that people would know out there that the foot parties are for real.  She described to them a bit of what I was doing and giggled a little, and that really authenticated her message I think. 

00:40 Back to the main lounge.  The party was slowing down a bit by this time, as some guys and gals alike started leaving.  But there were still plenty of people around and [Jack] and I talked with several others.

00:45 I noticed [Luwella] lingering by the door.  I’d been trying to get a session with her since the first party in May but had not done so up to this point due to being so busy with [Linda] and   [Miss Independent].  So I approached her. She was warm, smiley, and receptive, and so the two of us went into the red room and wound up spending an hour together.  This girl was but 19 years old, and had just moved to Harrisburg.  So she may not be back for too many more of these parties.  But I’ll talk more about this session in a separate letter to her.

01:45 [Luwella] and I said goodbye and went back to the main lounge.  [Vicki] was there and she asked if I’d do one more session with her before leaving.  I couldn’t say no.  So, we went to one of the less private rooms and I had her leave a message on My Telespace as well, describing the party and what I was doing with her.  Hearing her describe the worshiping was rather erotic. 

01:55 Back to the main lounge.  I strolled around, saying goodbye to the girls I knew, and then found [Jack].

02:00 [Jack] and I headed to the ground floor to meet our ride home.  The moon was shining and a cool breeze was blowing.  Though our ride didn’t come for twenty minutes, we never ran out of things to discuss about this wonderful party.

02:20 Our ride came.  The party evening was over.  Nice.

I again had a great time. Lots of new faces (and feet) at this one.  We won’t be attending the party in August since we’re going to camp later this month and need the funds for that.  But we will attend in September.  Hopefully, this will not conflict with the WPSBC social, which is to be held Saturday, September 12th.  If it does however, then I’ll have to skip the social this year, and attend the party.  You can tell where my priorities are.  Right?  

As I did last month, I’ll post letters to each of the ladies I spent time with this time, to further document my experience.  These will be issued over the next week or two.  So check back often for new installments in the story of my love quest.  The party has inspired me once more.  So I hope the creative dry spell I’ve encountered over the past couple of weeks disappears long enough to get all these letters written.  I feel energized and motivated again, and so am eager to write once more.  Stand by.

Take care.

Tom Hesley

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