Story Part IV

I suppose in an effort to keep this tale short as promised, I should spare you the details of the numerous emails we sent one another, our daily phone conversations. So, I will share those I feel, in hindsight, were perhaps the most central to the development of said tale.

As I've said, we began communicating, in one form or another, daily. Consistency was our theme, and so we continued to present the personalities we had assumed in our profiles. We were both sarcastic, funny and closed. I enjoyed telling him how amazing and unique I was, my impressive life resume; he did the same. One day, while speaking on the phone, he asked, "So, what do you think of this whole situation?"

I thought for a moment, and knew I should probably take this rare opportunity to be honest, rather than entertaining:

"I'm nervous. People have a tendency to weave webs with their words; once some thought or opinion is articulated, verbalized to another person, it takes on the form of a truth, whether or not anyone believed it initially. We both love words, and I fear we're weaving these webs every time we speak. It's just so easy to become trapped in your articulated half-truths..."

And, in our first turn at a relationship, I suppose this is the most honest conversation we ever had. He was intrigued, delighted, in agreement...but as it happened, it was a warning to which he paid no heed.


Of course, I wasn't just referring to one's ideas on evolution or the war in the Middle East. In speaking with someone you've just met, there's a tendency to screen for any positive (or negative) feedback and adjust one's projection of oneself accordingly. It's natural, it's rarely conscious, and, for most platonic relationships, seldom matters. But when you're searching for love (and we were both clearly on a quest), it's entirely dangerous. You're not lying when you adjust to conform to someone's expectations, but you do begin to pare down the dimensions you share with someone to those which have received some form of positive feedback. I became a shadow of my true self--one which was arrogant, intelligent, elitist, and impenetetrable. I admit these traits are all my own at times, but if traits are clothing, they barely formed one sock. However, as I had received feedback that he was interested in my foot, I took that sock off for him, and wiggled my toes under his nose.

The stench must have been awful.

***

After about one month of correspondence, Sebastian asked if he could come to visit me. We agreed that in two weeks, he would make the unbelievably long trip to see me. The knowledge that this was about to become real, that I might lose more than a few socks along the way, and that I would be spending three days with this man sent my mind into an ever-frantic spiral. We had sent each other photos of ourselves, but we all know which photos are chosen to send: the ones with the kind and gentle light, the best hair-days...When he told me how beautiful I was in my picture, I became increasingly nervous that I had misrepresented myself. I dragged each of my friends to my computer screen to show them my photo: "Does this look like me?"

They thought I was going insane. They were correct. Oddly, I never once stopped to wonder if he would look like his photo...my dream was coming to visit and of course he would look just as amazing in person. He would probably be even more handsome. I would clearly disappoint. This fear took almost total control over my life, growing into a huge monster which ripped through my appetite, kept me awake at night, and threw my hands into sparring matches with one another as I sat in class.

But the ticket had already been purchased, and there was no going back now. And yes, it was about to get worse.