I Loved Someone Who Didn't Love Me
I've been thinking about her a lot lately... and it still hurts just as much as ever. The worst part is the inescapable reality that not only will I likely never see her again, but that she might not even remember me at all. I didn't really want to write about it again, but I want her to have a place, to be represented somehow... so I dug up my original story from EP, it was right where I left it.
--
It started with her name. She was a friend of a friend, and when her name was first mentioned I remember thinking: “*****, that is a gorgeous name.” It would be a while before I'd see her, but whenever I heard the name I caught myself painting a picture. “I bet she's cute. And sweet. What a beautiful name.”
When I finally ended up meeting her, would you believe it? She was cute. And sweet. We started talking, and there was something there. A few minutes later I was in love. It was something she said. It was so brutally honest, so pure, straight from the heart. I melted into a pudding. Later that night I got her number from my friend and texted her.
What followed was in many ways, a nightmare. I knew she had issues, but didn't know she was an actual ghost. Unreachable, untouchable, a fleeting apparition. When I learned of her latest escape plan I was determined to put a stop to it, to help her. I went down to the bar where she worked and waited for her shift to end. It was awkward beyond belief, but she agreed to see me the next day.
I felt like I was going to get a chance. We met, we walked, we talked, deep into the night. I didn't think she was suddenly going to stop being a ghost or anything, but at least she was talking to me. We ended up sleeping together and... it was a disaster. It's funny, when I first wrote this story I accidentally deleted it before posting (or EP did, anyway) but the next passage wasn't in it. Now that I have to re-write it I realize it has to be in here.
You see, I wasn't going to say *why* it was a disaster. Because I'm ashamed. It was stupid, but mostly just absurd in a general sense. She was going to sleep with me, I felt profoundly happy. I'd show her just how much she meant to me. We started kissing, touching, you know how such things go. I noticed she wasn't quite as turned on as I had hoped she would be. Because of this, neither was I. Then I made a fatal mistake, but I'd only realize that the day after: I put on the condom without being completely aroused.
This had never happened to me before, because I had always been very much aroused in similar situations, because the women I was with were as well. You see where this is going? She didn't see it either, I guess, or maybe she thought that's how I always was, I don't know. We tried, but it wasn't good for either of us (of course). I was actually naive enough to think that it wouldn't matter, we'd do it right next time. We held each other and even went to the park next day. We played frisbee, you don't need to be aroused to play frisbee.
There would be no second time. She was back to being a ghost. No real chance, just one day, one night, one failure. I wanted to, so very much, she didn't, or couldn't. We'd barely talk anymore and eventually I agreed to stop trying. After some time had passed she added me on facebook. I sent her one last message, in the knowledge that I'd likely never get one back. I didn't.
Are ghosts capable of love? Her relationship status seems to think so. Every single thing about this experience hurts me. I love her, but it doesn't matter. This story is now all I have. No tokens, no trinkets, no letters, no happy memories. In these words I will immortalize my love for one of the loneliest people I have ever met. *****, the ghost of my past.
--
It started with her name. She was a friend of a friend, and when her name was first mentioned I remember thinking: “*****, that is a gorgeous name.” It would be a while before I'd see her, but whenever I heard the name I caught myself painting a picture. “I bet she's cute. And sweet. What a beautiful name.”
When I finally ended up meeting her, would you believe it? She was cute. And sweet. We started talking, and there was something there. A few minutes later I was in love. It was something she said. It was so brutally honest, so pure, straight from the heart. I melted into a pudding. Later that night I got her number from my friend and texted her.
What followed was in many ways, a nightmare. I knew she had issues, but didn't know she was an actual ghost. Unreachable, untouchable, a fleeting apparition. When I learned of her latest escape plan I was determined to put a stop to it, to help her. I went down to the bar where she worked and waited for her shift to end. It was awkward beyond belief, but she agreed to see me the next day.
I felt like I was going to get a chance. We met, we walked, we talked, deep into the night. I didn't think she was suddenly going to stop being a ghost or anything, but at least she was talking to me. We ended up sleeping together and... it was a disaster. It's funny, when I first wrote this story I accidentally deleted it before posting (or EP did, anyway) but the next passage wasn't in it. Now that I have to re-write it I realize it has to be in here.
You see, I wasn't going to say *why* it was a disaster. Because I'm ashamed. It was stupid, but mostly just absurd in a general sense. She was going to sleep with me, I felt profoundly happy. I'd show her just how much she meant to me. We started kissing, touching, you know how such things go. I noticed she wasn't quite as turned on as I had hoped she would be. Because of this, neither was I. Then I made a fatal mistake, but I'd only realize that the day after: I put on the condom without being completely aroused.
This had never happened to me before, because I had always been very much aroused in similar situations, because the women I was with were as well. You see where this is going? She didn't see it either, I guess, or maybe she thought that's how I always was, I don't know. We tried, but it wasn't good for either of us (of course). I was actually naive enough to think that it wouldn't matter, we'd do it right next time. We held each other and even went to the park next day. We played frisbee, you don't need to be aroused to play frisbee.
There would be no second time. She was back to being a ghost. No real chance, just one day, one night, one failure. I wanted to, so very much, she didn't, or couldn't. We'd barely talk anymore and eventually I agreed to stop trying. After some time had passed she added me on facebook. I sent her one last message, in the knowledge that I'd likely never get one back. I didn't.
Are ghosts capable of love? Her relationship status seems to think so. Every single thing about this experience hurts me. I love her, but it doesn't matter. This story is now all I have. No tokens, no trinkets, no letters, no happy memories. In these words I will immortalize my love for one of the loneliest people I have ever met. *****, the ghost of my past.
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