From audio journal episode: AJE-2010-05-31-21-52.
I thought when I got back in touch with [Judy] a few weeks ago (details here), that things would be different this time. But so far, we’ve only talked once on the phone in nearly a month, and my messages have either gone tersely answered, or totally unanswered. So, I’m concerned. It seems like I got rejected by her yet again.
Further, the single time that we did talk, she revealed some disheartening information; stuff that suggests that her feelings for me are today, no deeper or abiding than they were in 1997; the year we met. I fear therefore, that allowing myself to “fall” for her again will only result in the same emotional torments that I remember so well from those early days. This feels like I’m getting rejected all over again, just like before, and I’ve just barely put my toe in her waters.
Indeed, I wonder just how caring [Judy] would be now based on the choices she made at first, and in the years since. Plus, I might either lose romantic interest altogether, or go too far the other way, and fall head over heels should we become romantically and physically involved. Either she won’t care enough, or I’ll shortly stop caring as much as I do. Both scenarios daunt me.
But a third situation scares me most of all; that I’ll keep caring too much, and she’ll continue caring too little, just like last time. She’s always been less vulnerable to me than I’ve been to her, and I so hate being “the underdog.” It’s happened too many times with [First Love], [Vee], [Emeebee], and others. I’ve waited for them to call or write way more than they have on me. At this point, [Judy] appears no different. So I’d need some intense assurance that this imbalance does not exist, before fully sinking my heart into a new romance with [Judy]. It’s no fun getting rejected by the same person yet again.
In 1997 and 1998, [Judy] was usually unavailable to talk on the phone; even though I was paying for all the calls. Eventually, we agreed to establish a Saturday morning call schedule, and we’d talk for an hour each week. Not bad. But after a few weeks, this fell apart as well, as [Judy] took to traveling, schooling, vacationing, and other pursuits. Something always seemed to get in the way of our growing closer.
Unfortunately, it seems that after a month, we have the same patterns emerging all over again. Not even thirteen years has changed this apparently. So time does not heal all wounds. I’ve sent three emails and one voice mail; two of those messages have gone unanswered, and the other two were tersely answered at best. True, our one phone conversation a couple weeks ago was highly enjoyable. We got caught up and shared our current life aspirations. But I want conversations like this a couple times a week anyhow, and I wish to be able to count on them occurring. But with [Judy], though they’re nice when they do happen, this sharing is hard to come by on a consistent basis. Though she says all the right things, she typically does not act them out, and she’s slow to reply besides.
As I’ve written previously, a mission of mine is to avoid those who repeatedly care insufficiently; especially those as intensely sexy as [Judy]. She was beautiful 1997, and based on things she’s told me recently, I suspect her to be just as pretty now.
Further, as it did then, her extra allure makes her inattentiveness hurt more than the same behavior from someone less well-endowed would. So, I do hold prettier girls to higher standards of affection and special treatment, to best protect myself from needless pain because greater appeal implies a greater chance of deeper hurt. So deciding to pursue a “perfect ten” accordingly, warrants greater caution.
Thus with [Judy] so extraordinarily stunning therefore, coupled with her apparent casual regard for my feelings, I think I’d best halt pursuing her for now. I wish never to again experience the pains of 1997. On many August and September afternoons at that time, I could feel depressing waves of dismay roll over me and hold me down many times, as I lay on my couch at the Ben Franklin Parkway place, unable to concentrate on work. [Judy’s] choice to be absent so often hurt me so much that for some weeks, I cared nothing about advancing my software engineering career. I can’t afford such distractions today.
She and I have a rich history of disagreeing on how quickly and in what fashion our relationship ought to develop. So I’m concerned that we’d continue the arguing, if what we have now is allowed to blossom into more than mere friendship. I so wish to not repeat history. But history does tend to repeat itself, as humans tend to be creatures of habit, and [Judy] appears to be no exception. She acts today as she did back then, and I feel today as I felt back then. Indications are that her tendencies where I’m concerned have not changed through the years, and so repeating our history is a virtual certainty if I was to show my belly again. I’m sure of this for reasons I’ll bring up below.
She always says things that make me think that perhaps we really have something wonderful this time. But she rarely backs up those pleasant words with supportive actions. Her failure to return my messages in more timely manners is proof of this, and is likely a red flag that I should heed and stay away. Why? Because if she doesn’t care enough after all this time to behave in more consistently affectionate ways, then she’s never going to. I’ve conveyed my interest and done what I can to assure her that I’m for real. She’s even lamented about wanting someone to hang out with in New York City, and that she hasn’t sampled more of that great place because she has no one to see it with. I’ve told her that I’d love to be her guide and have her be mine. But her silence persists. Yes, we may have something very special. But it seems to be lopsided; tilted against me.
In fact, her choices in the 1990s support this conclusion. They suggested with piercing ferocity that she cared way less back them for me than I did for her. Indeed, my pain then was likely a strong signal from my intuition to get clear immediately because something was terribly wrong with the situation. But I listened not; ignoring my better judgment in the hopes that I’d guessed her incorrectly, and that she would someday, come around. The “electricity” I felt anytime she’d touch me proved impossible to ignore. So any doubts I had about her intensions I pushed aside; that is, until the emptiness became too much to shoulder. Eventually, I finally ended all communications in the winter of 1998; but not before I’d already invested a lot emotionally, and hurt a big amount when no return on that investment came back.
Up until our severance, I told myself everyday that I was just being childishly insecure, and that I was worrying too much that she did not love me. I made excuses for her; saying that she was young and thus, inexperienced. So, I should allow for a little inconsistency and lacking resoluteness in her. Young people, I reasoned, need lots of time to sort out their priorities, and it wasn’t fair that I expect her to know her life at 23 as well as I knew mine at 37 years of age.
She said back then that she loved me. Yet she cancelled a three-day visit she’d earlier agreed to make to Philly over Labor Day weekend; opting instead to travel out west and spend that time with friends instead of me. Now in her defense, as a consolation she offered to meet me for dinner at the train station during a layover on her way out there. But we’d only have had a couple hours together instead of the few days that we’d originally discussed. Well, I was so angry and hurt that she’d decided not to stay longer, that I told her thanks but no thanks.
As mentioned above, these sorts of disappointments plagued our entire first-round involvement. In the following months, reaching her by telephone once she’d gone back home to eastern Europe grew increasingly difficult. She was just not around enough; good excuses notwithstanding. Getting rejection after rejection from beautiful ladies like [Judy] just seemed to be my lot in life,
She’s led quite a colorful life though ever since I’ve known her; finding both time and capital to travel extensively. Indeed, she told me last month that she had come back to America several times following the summer of 1997; the year we met for the first time. In 1998, she returned to work as a cocktail waitress in Atlantic City; a mere two hours from Philadelphia. I would have taken the bus there to visit her often; if only I’d known she was there. In 1999, she came back to see other parts of the US; all of which were a mere phone call away. In the early 2000s, she reappeared to secure a language teaching job in CA, and lived out there for at least a year. But though I was happy for her and all of the enriching experiences she was no doubt acquiring through all her visits, I couldn’t help but wonder: Why in all that time she was so close by, did she never, EVER call me? There’s no reason I can fathom except that she just did not desire it.
She also revealed that she met an American man in CA, fell in love, got married, and took him home to the Czech Republic, where for several years anyhow they lived happily. They’ve separated now however, because one day, he just up and admitted that he simply did not love her anymore. Apparently, once he got over there, he found the Czech women way too appealing to stay married to [Judy], and he has since moved another woman into the very apartment that he and [Judy] once shared. Nice guy, ‘eh? Anyway, she’s come back to the US yet again, without him, to escape the pain of seeing him so often with other girls.
But while her plight saddens me, I’m offended too because she was here all that time. She said that she loved me, and that she appreciated the depth of my feelings toward her. Yet she chose him, (HIM!) while I was so easily reachable. She could have picked me, and I would have moved mountains to get to her. But she didn’t, and now that he’s left her and she is once again without a man, does she view me as a mere consolation? That’s probably so, given her inattentiveness. So could I ever trust that she’s come to think of me as “top dog” when she’s for so long treated me as second best? Probably not. Besides, she’s making plans to move back to her country if things in NYC don’t brighten for her over the next year. Scary. I mean, what if I fell deeply in love with her again only to have her say one day that she’s leaving? Not good. I might take this risk if this was the only worry. But with all these other misgivings, this is just one more of an already robust collection of straws that finally broke the proverbial camel’s back, I’m afraid. I’m uninterested in trying to overcome any woman’s indifference, even a lady as exciting as [Judy]; especially a lady as exciting as [Judy]. She may pity me, yes. But she’ll never love me.
Perhaps intellectually, she realizes now that my feelings might have lasted longer than his. She may reason that I’m a great guy, based on the consistency and enthusiasm I’ve offered her. But nonetheless, she’ll never love me. It seems that she’ll always return my rejected love to me, unopened, unappreciated, and painfully unrequited. She can tell herself all the good things about me she wants. But this will never make her heart skip two beats when I walk into a room where she is. She may have intended, by choice, to work to build a new association between us. But her heart’s just not into it. She likes me, and may want to help me. But she’s not enthralled with me.
In light of all this, I doubt that I could ever believe that she would come to see me as her night in shining armor or her prairie song. Throughout our history, she just hasn’t been around enough, and this has not changed in the entire thirteen years we’ve known each other. She doesn’t care for me in that way; though she tries to disguise this fact with kind words and pleasing conversation when pressed. But again, her actions speak a different story; way more loudly than anything she might say. While she has COMpassion; she has no passion for me. I see that clearly; though she may refuse to.
Though I don’t blame her for what she feels (or does not), at times I can’t help but cringing and feeling a little angry at her for all that time I spent in Philly, where we could have been together, but were not. Those were lonely years for me, and her nurturing presence could have made all the difference between the joyous existence that I’d so hoped to find when I moved there, and the life of melancholy that I actually experienced. I could have fed her French fries, covered her ears when loud trucks passed by, and shared my umbrella during those blustery late fall evenings, when ocean winds whipped around those tall downtown buildings. We could have skated at The Palace, strolled along South Street, sampled the finest of Philly cuisine, ridden the subways, and taken in all those great cultural and historic attractions that southeastern Pennsylvania offers. But instead, I did most of that alone, with a hole in my heart all the while. I needed her. But she chose not to be there, and try as I might, I don’t think I’ll be able to fully forgive her for that chronic absence; though that was thirteen years ago. Seeing me has never been a high priority for her. In fact, she could have located me, had she really wanted to; my name has been all over the Internet now for at least ten years, and my phone numbers were always listed in the telephone directory. So a couple simple Google searches would have revealed me to her. Nonetheless, it seems that she never tried.
So it must be clear to readers now that learning that, at least during one of those summers she was so close by but did not bother to call, really upset me. While I’d never wish her to do anything that she did not wish herself, I was still surprised to learn that I carry some of that old anger for her today. So why is that anger still within me? Because, with her words, she mislead me into thinking that she cared more than she did, and perhaps it’s that deception that is making my blood boil now because she was at it again last month. Our history has fanned my sense of foreboding, and I hate relationships that have anger built into them from the get-go. I just wish she would have owned up to her lacking feelings for me during those early months, and I resent her because she didn’t. If our history is any indication (and I think it the best one), she’ll always and frequently discover other places and priorities, that please her more than I. I’m just a better-than-nothing to her, and I’ll never strap myself to that lovers cross again.
Thus, now that I’ve had a few weeks to fully absorb all that she told me last month, I’ve become quite comfortable in my decision not to pursue her further and to reject any pursuits she herself might initiate; for history shows that she actually cares less than she says, and she’s still never around enough besides. I see a pattern now as warning that back then I’d become so caught up in, and hated. So I’m hell bent on steering clear of it in this second round. I love her so. But because of that, I must avoid her like the plague, since she does not love me with equal vulnerability.
I may discuss this with her at some point. But after one voice mail unanswered and one email message tersely answered, not to mention that weeks have elapsed since she last called, I think I’ll just let her discover this on her own. So effectively, I’ll reject her for all my rejected love that she’s declined, in the same silent way that she’s rejected me repeatedly; not because I wish to “get her back” mind you. It’s just easier to say nothing; particularly since getting hold of her has proven time and time again to be so difficult. Besides, talking about this further will not change my mind, and I’ll never be able to convince her to love me in the ways that I need to be loved. While I enjoy fantasizing about the two of us together, my wakeful side realizes that in light of the evidence, both then and now, this will never be; not really. I can’t keep getting rejected from people who are sure to reject me.
I’m trying not to take her disinterest too personally. But I expected to hear much more from her by now. So, it’s time to move on, and thus, I’ll trouble her no more. Should she call again, I may say all this. Or I may direct her to this blog. Or, perhaps I won’t answer the phone at all. We’ll see. I owe her nothing at this point; and am hard pressed to volunteer any compassion right now. I got rejected, and I’m raw from the experience. So she’d have to do some fancy rjetorical stepping to convince me to allow her to do this to me again. But that’s not happening!