[X]: im sian
D W: why sian?
[X]: my social life is drying up
[X]: my life is so boring
D W: huh?
D W: that’s because of your work what
D W: how exciting do you want it to be?
[X]: no like i said
[X]: work is ok
[X]: i wanna meet new people, new friends
[X]: and get married
The belated birthday greeting was perhaps the vehicle to drop a not-too-subtle hint. The date was a disappointing one for her and perhaps led to the end of the road to something or anything that could have happened.
Perhaps the best was not good enough for her. Or that whenever we think about prospects, we tend to stick that person into our vision of the future and see if he or she fits in it. Obviously, my presence jarred that vision.
The conclusion? For all that we claim, announce, denounce or deny, most of us are visual creatures. And there was the discussion and the questions she asked about how high looks ranked in my world in terms of a prospective partner. She had reservations then, before she asked for an exchange of photos.
Perhaps it’s not such a big deal, some might say.
Yet, for all my interaction previously with people who read my words without first seeing my face or the rest of my infirmed body, they would probably have formed little own impressions. Sadly, 90% of them decided to step out (some of them forever) after they met me. In person.
That the exchange of words dwindled considerably right after. The words became a front to my personality. But the physical aspect, with my larger-than-life warts and all? They wouldn’t want to touch it with a barge pole.
These words, mine, are a reflection of a personality, which conceals and withdraws behind walls most of the time. But then again, who the fuck cares?
So, it’s time to retreat. Go back to the woods. Set up camp deep inside. Lie on the damp grass and look up to the night sky. Some people may latch onto the little anchors that keep them trudging on, despite the disappointment. But I won’t allow myself that indulgence. For they have deceived me time and time again. They could have been half-truths. They could have been spoken out of the need to be flippant and perhaps patronising.
And I’ve seen the look. It’s like a cut-and-paste job. It’s like their image or impressions of this person whom they have had the exchange of words with were shattered into a thousand pieces. In their presence now is some boring looking disproportionate bloke, who could have been the worst of all possibilities they would never have imagined.
So, the words became fewer. They slowed to a trickle. Instead of a decent two-way communication, it feels like I’m the only hand trying hard to clap. Sometimes it feels like I’m trying way too hard. I leave them alone. I retreat, while throwing (as always) that offer of a conversation or a listening ear. But with the world bursting at its seams with mankind and the tons of “friends” on respective Facebook accounts, perhaps I have been relegated to becoming that weed of thorns sitting in some god-forsaken grassy mound deep in the forest. More often than not, the offer is disregarded and with time, forgotten. I have become merely a statistic or a piece of convenient personal trivia during dinner conversations.
But for the life of me, I would never forget that look on their faces. It feels as though the sky turned overcast in their worlds with a flicker of two of lightning, threatening to dampen the pieces of their shattered expectations. It has spoiled their night, day, month or whatever.
This is why I hesitate to meet. This is why I prefer hiding behind my words. This is why I tend to let loose with my words.
They are the best of who I am, but they will never be good enough.