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Jul. 9th, 2003 02:11 pm
No, no, you may no pozess me, no!
I've been considering starting a companion series to my sporadic accounts of OWGA (or Ones Who Got Away) which would cover the OWILGA (Ones Who I Let Go Away), but there are several obstacles. For one, if I can hardly bring myself to write about the guys I want to see again (I've done, what, three over the past year?), how will I get around to writing about the ones I really have no interest in? For another, how to write about people who I turned down after they declared their love for me without sounding vain and callous? (And is it too late to worry still about such perceptions?)
Besides, instead of being nostalgic tales of lust and longing, they'd be embarrassing ones of misunderstanding and cowardice. I don't handle unwanted attention well, as the following egregious example illustrates:
Long ago, a friend of mine (j'accuse![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
keyne!) tipped me off to the existence of a web site dedicated to long fingernails on men. Bemused and a bit affection-starved, I had my sister take a few snaps of my hands and sent them to the site admin in Europe, who mounted them. This triggered a casual, flirty e-mail correspondence with him (and, later, with a selecti quidem of visitors to his site).
Then Valentine's Day rolled around and I found on my doorstep a gargantuan bouquet in an FTD glass vase. Nuphy was terribly amused; I was shocked. Maybe the correspondence wasn't so casual after all--at least for my lonely Dutch correspondent. So I broke it off. That is to say, I tried. Of course, rather than be an adult about things and say something direct like, "Dude, the flowers were too much. I don't mind e-flirting, but I've no interest in anything more than that. If you can't accept that, then bye." I just stopped responding to him.
His e-mails grew increasingly insistent, which only confirmed my fears of having found an online stalker and solidified my resistence to replying. I got an email forwarded from the sys ad in which he asked if my account was still working. I got desperate-sounding letters in the mail. I can't remember what finally convinced me to stop hiding and respond; maybe it was the revelation that he had found a living, breathing boyfriend in his home country. (This always takes the curse off things, by assuring me that I'm not being seen as some kind of long-distance boyfriend ersatz.)
I wish I could say he's the last person I got squirrely with and did that to, but I can't. Recently (even more my most recent anti-avoidance kick), I took a vow not to do this again. But it's hard. However unrealistic someone's desires, no one wants to be the bad guy and disappoint them. But no one wants a stubborn, clingy, pathetic admirer either.
(Actually, if you either love disappointing people or hunger for affection from all and sundry, please disregard those remarks. I was just projecting.)
There was a time when I proudly made a list of everyone who had ever told me they loved me in order to boost my self-esteem. Now I'm always asking, Am I leading this person on? Because I love to flirt and fool around and meet new people, but I do not want to be responsible for fueling false hopes.
Besides, instead of being nostalgic tales of lust and longing, they'd be embarrassing ones of misunderstanding and cowardice. I don't handle unwanted attention well, as the following egregious example illustrates:
Long ago, a friend of mine (j'accuse
keyne!) tipped me off to the existence of a web site dedicated to long fingernails on men. Bemused and a bit affection-starved, I had my sister take a few snaps of my hands and sent them to the site admin in Europe, who mounted them. This triggered a casual, flirty e-mail correspondence with him (and, later, with a selecti quidem of visitors to his site).Then Valentine's Day rolled around and I found on my doorstep a gargantuan bouquet in an FTD glass vase. Nuphy was terribly amused; I was shocked. Maybe the correspondence wasn't so casual after all--at least for my lonely Dutch correspondent. So I broke it off. That is to say, I tried. Of course, rather than be an adult about things and say something direct like, "Dude, the flowers were too much. I don't mind e-flirting, but I've no interest in anything more than that. If you can't accept that, then bye." I just stopped responding to him.
His e-mails grew increasingly insistent, which only confirmed my fears of having found an online stalker and solidified my resistence to replying. I got an email forwarded from the sys ad in which he asked if my account was still working. I got desperate-sounding letters in the mail. I can't remember what finally convinced me to stop hiding and respond; maybe it was the revelation that he had found a living, breathing boyfriend in his home country. (This always takes the curse off things, by assuring me that I'm not being seen as some kind of long-distance boyfriend ersatz.)
I wish I could say he's the last person I got squirrely with and did that to, but I can't. Recently (even more my most recent anti-avoidance kick), I took a vow not to do this again. But it's hard. However unrealistic someone's desires, no one wants to be the bad guy and disappoint them. But no one wants a stubborn, clingy, pathetic admirer either.
(Actually, if you either love disappointing people or hunger for affection from all and sundry, please disregard those remarks. I was just projecting.)
There was a time when I proudly made a list of everyone who had ever told me they loved me in order to boost my self-esteem. Now I'm always asking, Am I leading this person on? Because I love to flirt and fool around and meet new people, but I do not want to be responsible for fueling false hopes.