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Further disclaimer: When I wrote these tales, I still thought I was in love with my first crush. This was in the year 2006, nearly four years ago. All of the things you are about to read are true. It is definitely true that truth is much stranger than fiction. The main guy/character is only ever referred to as HIM (all caps), partly because I didn’t know what else to call him, and partly because it was dramatic that way. I thought about going through and editing things out, but there’s no fun in that. I considered sharing the comments of my readers with you, but it wouldn’t be fair to share someone else’s thoughts without their permission, but the writing indicates when I am responding to a question. These were written in another online diary from 10/21/2006-11/2/2006, with a sidetrip to 8/28/2005. After these, I will begin on my present, Mr. Perfect, and my future, only known as Mr. True Love. It’s long, but it’s SO worth it, LOL. Enjoy! XOXO 2blu2btru Oh, and the *** take the place of my other diary’s name or identifiers, such as my login name.

This is the one With the HIM theory   10/21/2006

     So I was sitting up in my bed in the middle of a frustratingly poignant Harlequin, one arm propped on my crisp white pillow, wondering what would happen next. My blinds were slanted open so that I could catch the last dying rays of sunshine that dappled the windowpane. All of a sudden, all the hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms stood on end and I turned my head out the window, catching a glimpse of a gray (not silver) car passing on the street below the window and I knew, just knew that it was the infamous HIM. Never mind that I don’t know much about makes and models of cars, have only seen his newest car with him in it once, and could never be sure looking at the top who was in it. I knew, as surely as I know I’m sitting at this desk typing my *** entry that it was HIM. 

      If you are just tuning in and have never heard of HIM, I will give you a brief introduction before I posit my latest theory. When I was nine years old, my favorite cousin came to visit (he was a favorite partly because I only saw him in the summer). He had made a friend a few summers before and he had a crush on this friend’s cousin. Anyway, he invited me, for some reason completely unbeknownst to yours truly, to hang out with them. That day, on that initial meeting, I didn’t know I was lost. He scared me. I’d never met anyone so vitally alive, with so much energy and such a rapacious appetite for every sensory thrill life had. He loved danger, playing with firecrackers, holding them in his hands and throwing them at the last possible moment. He even waited to long once and one exploded in his hands. It didn’t leave a scratch. He rebelled against authority of any kind. He was deliciously free and independent. In short, I thought he was a crazy. 

     That all changed the next year when I moved across the street from him. I’d somehow managed to forget him. I was about to go into the corner store at the same time he was coming out. I looked directly into those light brown eyes, canopied by those impossibly long, curling lashes, and forgot what breathing was like. I wrote about it in a paper that I had published in high school:     It was him. Standing in front of me was the reason why I only had fleeting crushes on boys. I was waiting for this moment, for him to walk out of the store and look at me and know that he had been waiting for me, too…Those eyes penetrated everything, separated my soul from my body, picked it up, and placed it safely in his mind. I stood there, we stood there, inhaling each other and breathing one another back out so we could have the pleasure of inhaling again.

     I was only ten when this happened, and now I’m 21, but he still affects me this way, whether or not I see him. If he’s anywhere around, I know. It’s like he has a distinctive electric current that I pick up on. No matter what travesties are passing for male/female relationships in my life at that time, whenever I see him, I always feel that gut-deep wrenching feeling, as if his eyes are attempting to pull my soul out by the roots, and those roots are in my intestines. My deepest fear is that one day he will succeed in stealing it. I always thought that, the older I got, the more men I saw, the less appeal he would have for me. We never dated–for most of the time, we agreed to disagree that the other should even be in the same universe as us–and yet, the feeling persists despite my every rational and irrational impulse and action to get rid of it. It hasn’t lessened, just deepened, grown more complex as the years have passed. He’s been the most constant person in my life for almost all of my life. At the same time, he’s the best friend and the most hated adversary.

    So my theory is this: the more I try to free myself from HIM, the more tangled up in him I become. But the reverse isn’t true. The less I struggle against the feeling, the closer to drowning in it I become. The worst of it is I have no idea how he feels about me.

     He sometimes seems to want to possess me (not in the victorian sense of sleep with me. but as in a little boy snatching a favorite toy out of reach of anyone else, “She’s mine, and no you can’t play with her!” sort of way.), sometimes as if he really wants to be friends with me. I’ve seen him impossibly, improbably jealous of boys/men I’m not even interested in. I’ve caught him in the stalkerish behavior of observing me out of his blinds. He’s sang to me outside of my house, and done some dangerous things to get my attention (some resulting in injury).

     But is it because he likes me, or because he wants me to like him? Once he’s sure I’m “his,” will I go on the shelf  while he demands the new must have toy?     Oh well. If I haven’t found out the answer in 11 years, a few stolen moments at the computer aren’t going to make it crystal clear. But I would love to know what all of you in *** land think!

You’ve Got me Going in Circles (Luther’s cover of someone),