The last few years have been largely romantically uninteresting. That is to say, not much happened, and a lot of what did was regrettable. I walked away from a few situations with a little knowledge and some hurt feelings. Time heals all proverbial wounds, but without a sense of closure it's hard to fully let go/ move on.

The last one, the one who was a bad idea and an expected failure. He was someone I should have fallen for when he lived here. Left me with a very definite sense that we really could have had something. No closure in that suddenly, communication stopped. Was only a matter of time, because distance frustrates romantic feelings for those of us very physically inclined. He has moved on and I wish him well. I can't stop replaying our last encounter in my head, though. Our only encounter, really. It's hard to let go, because I wasn't rejected- not really. Fond thoughts always.

Then there was the fellow who reminds me too much of myself. I see many of my emotional highs and lows in exaggerated examples in him. Substance as emotional crutch, self loathing, constantly moving forward and onward to avoid stagnation. He pursued me. He came to visit me in the age before car, and our constant dialogue was both interesting and exciting. When we became involved, he was in the end throes of a long relationship that I know little about. I left for a weekend to go to NYC, the first weekend in a month we weren't to spend together. Was absolutely silly for him, bought him a print of an artist I knew he liked at the MOMA. When I came back, everything was different. I assume that for a time there, he became resubmerged in his endstage relationship. Brushed me off. Ended communication for the most part, but not completely. The cruel part of the way it trailed off was that not once, but twice he asked to come see me only to stand me up. Made sure not to make any plans, because I was excited. Though fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. The next time he tried to contact me, he seemed in earnest. Asked to come visit me that evening, but as fate would have it this was the night of my first date with H. Decisively responded with 'no' and didn't hear from him for at least a year.

He's struck up conversation with me recently, which made my heart beat quicker. For months afterwards, my friends had to clean up the mess that he left me as. Since he rejected me in such a flakey, roundabout way I never really let myself get over him. I thought I did, but my reaction to polite conversation has taught me otherwise. And the matter-of-fact part of me insists that recent conversation has been nothing but impulse on his part. He couldn't know, and if he did I doubt it'd matter. Bitterly annoyed with myself that I got SO EXCITED to hear from him for a few minutes.

Ghosts can talk, but they don't know they're ghosts. Haunt without realization. He'll forget about me again for a while now. I wish he wouldn't.