Superstitious Whispers, Senseless Lies

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Sometimes I'll give it to you just to get you off my back.

I'm quick with it because I know one fact for certain. I am in control over how it is used in the long run.  Yeah. I can answer the emails that I want...the IMs that I want...the phone calls that I want...the knocks on my door that I want. I have complete control over whatever I give out. Unfortunately there are people who are under the impression that they are in complete control over you as soon as you give them this information.



Shit, it's happened to me. I know I've done it to others. Some- times, like a wild puppy, you get so excited about communications with someone that it drives you crazy not being able to talk to them when you think you NEED to. But people usually can train you to respect certain limitations, and once learned, you take it upon yourself never to cross that line again. Well, that's how it was for me, and I think that's how it's going to be for Ivan.



I find that he is constantly interested in my contact information. He wanted my email address, then my IM address, both to 'keep in touch' with me. Before that, it was my apartment number, so that he can 'stay in touch' with me. In each and every instance, he has gone over a above the legal limit. Here's the rub. Unless I am madly in love with you, I'm not going to bother you with communication. That means that 99.99999% of all humankind will seldom hear from me. If I'm in love with you, but not so madly, I'll still contact you, but on a limited basis. But the real trick is not to bother me, and I'll someday get around to bothering you. It happens.



Well, I've given Ivan my internet address, and his emails are all about getting together. He knocks on my door at odd hours of the night with food, flowers, or wine. Tell me if something is wrong with that. I don't know. Especially the flowers. Isn't that for women? Well, I'm not so insecure about my manhood to worry about that, but I stopped answering my door and his emails because he just wouldn't give me room to breathe.



Now, I'm not going to lie to you. I was obsessed over a woman to the point that I was the same, but this guy is pure dude. He's not gay, he just wants a friend so bad that it's killing him. I don't bother with it though because I lack the sheer skills in being a best friend. It's very difficult for me to be a pal, a buddy, a chum, a neato friend. My friends are so good to me because they realize my illness, my fears, and they coddle me. REALLY. They're never overbearing and they come and get me out of my spider hole to let me know that I'm still human from time to time. This is good. Good for me and good for my exposure therapy.



But my boy Ivan here is under the impression that he can develop me into a close, buddy buddy. Like I tried to tell the lady that I was seeing not long ago. The energy that caused me to fall in love with her is the same gravitational pull that has me in her orbit. Whenever we decide that we no longer have a romantic connection between us, it is highly doubtful that a friendship will ensue.  It's not that I don't want her as a friend, in fact I consider her a friend, as I do Ivan. The problem is that the mechanisms needed for friendship, the tools that one uses to become and behave like a friend, I have lost. Happened at 9/11 I believe. I had friends before that, then, I lost friends, wives, lovers, possessions, everything, and ended up in the streets. Friendless. From there I just never developed those tools again. Developing me into a close friend is more like getting a clam to knit a scarf.



I think of Ivan and his request recently for my phone number. In less than a week, he is calling me incessantly to contact him. First leaving messages in my voice mail, then just calling to see if I'll pick up. I shake my head. No. I'm not picking up. The frequency of the calls lends for an equal and opposite reaction from me. Energy is never wasted or squandered. This is true. The energy that he is using to pull me into his orbit is only having a slingshot effect. Tough analogy, but one that fits. One that I was even told about by another. So I might consider myself broken, well then there is another person on this planet that's just as broken as I. And if she is, there could be one like her, and so on, and so on, and so forth.



Now, her voice is like echoes of my soul. She indeed changed me, and altered me, I would say, for the better. I reached out at one time for another human being. Which no doubt means that one day I will do it again. I don't have to live in solitude to the point of enjoying it. Who knows. Maybe I can develop the muscles needed to lift the heavy weight of friendship once again. I don't know if I can, simply because of the ephemerality of life. Why waste the time? A few friends, and that's it. Too many does not leave you fulfilled.



I saw Ivan today and the first thing his broken heart wanted answers to was the fact that I didn't return his calls. I explained to him evenly that I don't have a phone for conversations, but for emergencies. Stop calling it. This made him bitter enough to insult me, which, because I can feel his pain, I understand. I wished him a pleasant evening, but he and I both realize that there is going to be no more calls from him from this point on. Why be cordial?



And this is the rub. A close friend? That's full of insults when they think they've been spurned? How close of a friend does this person want to be anyway? Is friendship to them a function, a fixture? Something to be plugged in and used when needed? Or is it a responsibility upon YOU to do for others as you would have them do onto you? Makes one think the next time the word friend is used.Is it really all about you? Because, maybe if it is, you might find out it's not.



I no longer use it so lightly because I know my limitations. Not to be mean, but to be honest.

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