it's confession time and I know I can trust you. You already know most there is to know about me and still remain non-judgemental so I thought I would share this with you.
You now how long I have been on my own, bar the odd - and sometimes very odd- adventure but I think I may be wandering into the realms of dangerous waters. I won't put myself into situations of danger but you know what I mean. Unchartered territories with as yet uncalculated risks.
Ok, I will try to start at the beginning and not ramble all over the page.
Some months ago I thought I would have a go at internet dating. It is the 21st century and all that. I told myself it could be an adventure. So I signed up with one of the better known sites, posted a profile and an outrageous photo. I figured it would take a certain kind of courage to get past the pic!
Well, many guys were brave enough to get past that pic. In fact I think most of them didn't even register that I had pink hair and put Rugby, wing position, as my favourite participation sport. I don't think the ability to read is a prerequisite for joining this site, judging from the guys I attracted. Well all except for 2. A Circuit Judge and a Buddhist/Taoist. The latter being nearly 20 years my junior.
Met the judge at a local dockside cafe for lunch. He was Ok. A serial dater, tight as a badger's a******e and spoke disrespectfully of his LAST wife. Not for me, but no harm done. Don't think I was his cup of rosey either as our phone calls and desultory emails dwindled into nothing. Or got lost in the ether. Then I went overseas for a few months as you know so that was that.
Once home again I decided to terminate my agreement with the aforementioned site. I log in to cancel my subscription and could not resist reading my mail and seeing who had last "checked me out". There was one cute guy, said he was 55 so i had a look at his profile. Read it a couple of times and then was about to check out and leave when up popped a message from him. He joked that he wasn't just eye candy and that if I was going to check him out the least I could do was to stop by and say hi. Duly did that whereupon he admitted that he was in fact only 45 and had made a mistake in his profile. I told him to get back to the playground but he persisted. We ended up emailing each other. Yes, I know, I gave him my personal email, then my telephone number and it all took off from then. It was FUN. He made me laugh, he flirted, I flirted back and before too long I felt as though I was in a relationship of some wierd but exciting type. His wit was seductive, his geordie accent delicious. I kept a modicum of wit about me. I had seen people make the mistake of thinking they knew on-line strangers and I was not going to fall into that trap. You now what a pragmatist I am.
Well two months have now gone by, we speak several times a week, text almost daily. I feel he is at a crossroads in his life and is reaching out for something, someone. I know it is not really me but I have gone along this road with him. We have had minor spats, disagreements and to hear us on the phone you would think we were really old mates. I HAVE NOT EVEN LOOKED INTO HIS EYES. How can you imagine you know someone you have yet to meet. On one level there is a certain intimacy which comes with anonymity and bit by bit I have a picture of him and a measure of him in a depth that I may not have had had we met in a bar or at a party. We have shared things one does not normally share with anyone but a diary. All this and still I cannot know him because I have not met him. Yet. Or can I? I know what he looks like but megapixels although giving a good image cannot reveal what the first physical meeting does. That unknown quantity. That animal or chemical reaction that marks us out as human and not robot.
It was all quite hot and the beginning and the temperature has settled at way above tepid but nowhere near boiling. It is time to meet. To decide whether we can be the mates we think we are or something more. BUT (bad grammar I am aware) somewhere long the line I decided (and agreed with him) that age was irrelevant. After all I am not about to have his babies. Been there, the T shirt is now a duster. I have also learnt at least one valuable lesson from this, so far. I am no longer going to be afraid to live in the present and have foresworn looking down the tunnel of my tomorrows. So where does this leave me? Feeling like a teenager going on a first blind date? Not quite but there is an element of that. Scared? A bit but what is the worst that can happen? Perhaps I have imbued him with characters he does not possess and vice versa. Maybe when I meet this interesting man I will still find him interesting and even attractive. Maybe one glance will reaffirm how shallow the human persona can be and I will not find him attractive at all, in any way. Then I ask myself who IS this person I have been chatting and writing to for nearly two months? Part of me wishes I could keep him as an old fashioned pen friend, after all we do have a lot in common. My senses tell me I know him but my common sense tells me I cannot. I might think I know what is in his heart and mind but that is without factoring in that magic ingredient that can hardly be described. That unquantifiable ingredient that makes one person attractive to someone but not to somebody else.
We meet on many levels but our lives have little in common. Does this matter? Of course it does. Doesn't it? Am I over analysing this. The internet has provided us with a level of freedom. A freedom to express ourselves in a way that can be scary. Is that what I am afraid of? Allowing myself to be truly myself with someone I have not met. You know how my old journalistic skills are now part of my DNA and I have been able to assure myself that he is what he says he is, at least in terms of his work. He is not an unemployed layabout preying on the middle aged and vulnerable but he could still be manipulative person who is in the habit of pursuing what he sees as vulnerable women.
Update.
All the above is a little academic now. I was going to London to meet one of my brothers over from Oz, se the Summer Show at The RA and go and see The 39 Steps, so I arrange to meet my "pen friend". Remember dear Diary, he was the keen pursuer!! Anyway, tentative arrangements were made. Then he baled on me. Family problems in the North East. Since then a few comments on Facebook and NOTHING. Nada. Rien.
And how do I feel about this? Strangely, unaffected. I think I knew all long it was a bit of a game. Funny what a bit of boredom can be responsible for. Part of me always had reservations but the other part was game for an adventure and perhaps even only the making of another pal. I think he lives in a lonely bubble and makes on-line friends. I guess I should feel sorry for him but I don't. Whatever he has made of his life is mainly by choice. If knowing me for a while gave him some fun well so be it. I don't feel sorry for myself. It was just another experience. A bit like reading a book and not being sure of the ending. Did the book merit that ending? Not sure. Still thinking about this one. Real life obviously scared him. Perhaps he is better off in his bubble. I think I prefer the real world.
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