We talked this morning. She sent me a brief e-mail, and, after these long days of not speaking to her, I called her not long after in order to see how she had been doing. It was a nice conversation, and while the mood was a little subdued, it was refreshing to realize that there was still friendship between us.

I still think there is hope. She told me that she missed me, and that she often thinks about me. And indeed, in one brief sentence she expressed something of a hope of getting back together, but I do not know when or if it will be realized. All in all, it was good to hear her voice again.

I suppose I don't have it as bad as some: I was writing to one of my friends in Germany via AIM and he told me about this girl who came up and flirted with him at a train station. I asked if he said some nice things and got her number, but he said that he couldn't summon the courage. I know I used to be that way, but as I take the first steps into my 27th year, I've become all too aware that the time when I could afford to have such little moments of cowardice have passed. It's time to start living life for all it's worth. He's a good guy, a smart guy. I hope the next time a similar opportunity arises that he takes a hold of the reins of his own destiny.

On a side note: my bicycle is missing, which is another thing in a long list of crap that I didn't need. As I said in an e-mail to one of my advisers last week--when it rains, it pours.

Double Your Dating? What About Keeping Her?

In the wake of my breakup, a friend recommended David DeAngelo's dating series, which I've already read, agreed with and, for the most part, took to heart prior to even meeting her. If there's anyone out there who's having a problem getting women to date, I highly recommend his work. The problem, as I told my friend, is remaining true to this teaching after you've been going steady with a person for a while, or, more importantly, if you've found the person who you think is the mythical "one". Then there's the point where you see if you've actually learned anything. Because so many of us, when we see the warning signs, don't do Mr. DeAngelo's "counter-intuitive" actions, but instead struggle to keep the women we love. This is foolish, and is indeed at the basis of all of his teaching: Be cocky, be funny, and most importantly, don't be a doormat. He has a free newsletter as well.

Doc Love over at AskMen.com also has some good stuff.

“And how does the story end?” I once asked her during a phone conversation that now seems to have been taking place years ago. She told me that she wasn’t sure what would happen to the bright design stuident who had had a troubled life but had at last found her soul mate. There must be more to the story. Unfortunately, perhaps now we’ll never know. For even though I’m not sure it’s entirely over, I am here to tell you how the story ends.

Lately I’ve been thinking rather deeply about what my life would sound like if it had a soundtack. Currently, as I sit here on the Metra as it chugs home to Hyde Park, I think it would be Josh Rouse’s "Rise". Listen carefully to the lyrics of that song and you’ll have some idea of what happened after I wrote that optimistic passage in my last entry. Perhaps in the comtemplation of that song we encounter the important lesson to learn from all this: no matter how singular we believe our experiences to be, there’s always some beautiful archetype of the event somewhere out there. In some senses this is a comforting notion: we have not been alone in our grief.

The train is coming to my stop. I don’t know when I’ll at last post the story of how it ended, but post I will. I am still not entirely sure that it is over, but I am trying to face the future with the belief that I will find someone else as wonderful as she.

I am trying very hard.

So here I am on the South Shore line to South Bend, Indiana, compelled by some sort of romantic notion that evcrything can be saved if I just undertake this trip. You see, she wrote me a text message this morning in which she expressed concern for me. For a few hectic minutes, I paced around the apartment, wondering if I should take the plunge and respond to her. At last I did. And I called her. What followed was an hour-long conversation that left me with hope. Sweet hope.

The day was beautiful and cool, such a switch from the hot, boiling, humid and dreary days that followed our argument. She sent me text messages in the afternoon, commenting on the weather, and we talked. And it seemed as thought things would be OK. On the way home, I stopped by Hutch Commons, where a student was watching Good Will Hunting on his laptop. I watched, and I almost slipped into tears. And I sent her a message that said, “I’m coming in. I was just watching Good Will Hunting on someone else’s comp. So much of that story is like us…And indeed…I have to go see about a girl.” This is either one of the craziest or one of the wisest things I’ve ever done in my life. Which it is, the next few hours may reveal.

But for now I have hope. Everything’s going to be all right.

Well, presumably as a result of a conversation she had with her friend last night, she wrote me this morning and essentially called it off. A part of me knew it was coming, but that doesn't lessen the pain. To go into the details would take a long time, so I shall refrain. I called her this morning and spoke to her for a few minutes, and even though I think I knew even then what was coming, it was everything in the world to me just to hear her sleepy voice and the sound of her body as it moved in the sheets.

I love her. This is the hardest thing in my life to turn away from. And this day has been hell. Perhaps one day she'll come back; perhaps one day she'll realize what we had and show up and ask for it again. And it frightens me to think that I may just drop everything if that possibility arises.

Instead of coming to see me or even wishing me goodnight on the night of my birthday, she goes out with her friends to the local pub. What am I to think of that?

I've made a decision. A part of me thinks I should just keep my distance, but another part of me believes that I need to seize the opportunity while it exists. Tomorrow, I'm going to go to her apartment (which is in another city in another state), and bring her flowers and a book she wanted. I'm going to write her a handwritten letter, maybe even a poem. I'm going to take one of the early trains so I'll have no problems getting back if I need to. And I'm going to take my bags just in case.

Carpe diem, we used to say. And I plan to. Will she feel the same way?

I almost lost someone very dear to me. More dear to me than anything in my life. And this before my birthday.

May God, if there is one, forgive me for my insecurities and rid me of them.

I can only hope that what damage was done may be repaired.

A Return

It's tempting to fall into the end-of-quarter release that always happen after the stress of exams has passed, the campus has emptied, and coffee-shop conversations, even at this unassailable bastion of intellectualism, turn briefly to the mundane topics of the world. It is an experience akin to pillow talk after a long night of intercourse.

Unfortunately, I remain one of the stressed. Even though I received the good news that I will receive funding for next year, due to complications that I will not elaborate upon at this moment, I still am not able to take to my exams. Indeed, after all these months of mental anguish, my term has been extended.

And with that, I leave you, faithful readers, if indeed there are still any of you left. I hope that I may someday soon enjoy my own mundane conversations with you once again.