Courtship Sinks

Early this year, I received an email from a female passer-by. It was short and impersonal, but I did reply and it was soon established that we were both alone, troubled and quite compatible.
Before long we were exchanging lengthy emails, chats, letters; eventually I wound up having my long-distance phone service restored so that we could converse in real-time with our real voices.
We even exchanged gifts in the mail, a quaint act that I found disarmingly romantic. More fool me.

For a period of a few weeks, our calls became an almost nightly arrangement. I found a great deal of happiness in this 'relationship'- I was fresh out of the hospital, struggling to make sense of my shattered , duct-taped life and suddenly here was this charming, intelligent, hilarious and engagingly imperfect woman that I could talk to about anything- without having to deal with the consequences of a 'real' relationship . It didn't hurt that she was an artist and very, very good at her particular art- something I find very attractive.
I sensed some of the same feelings from the other end.

We didn't need to explain ourselves to each other, there was an easy understanding in our talks that is quite rare in (or out of) 'real-life'. Sometimes we'd disagree, but without anger, which is the only decent way to be disagreeable, in my opinion.

We discussed a great many personal things, including sex, though our conversations could hardly be labeled 'phone sex', there were some very forthright discussions about sexual habits; she was very curious and I was more than willing to open up to her, answering her questions as best I could, admitting that in some areas I just don't know very much at all...

At times, I could swear that she was asking me questions from a list found in one of those women's magazines sold at supermarket check-outs : 10 Questions to Ask Him Before You Do It etc...
but I soon figured out that these questions were wholly created by my friend, that she was a chronic list-maker, a personality trait that perfectly aligned with other things that she had revealed to me. I could imagine a neatly lettered list of questions on a perfectly placed memo pad near her telephone or computer and I was fairly certain that she was leaving room on the paper for my answers- that these were indeed a form of test or evaluation and I was generally earning high marks just by being honest and willing to talk and to listen.

She told me some truly horrific things about herself ; at times it almost seemed like she was trying to provide me with reasons to find her unappealing and perhaps she felt a sort of disappointment with me when I shrugged these peculiarities off- after all, I told her, I'm quite accustomed to the women in my life doing similar things- I can handle these problems. ( Better than my own, I should have added)

I found myself strangely drawn to this woman, despite (or perhaps because of) these revelations. I felt as if I didn't have to restrain my words to her, that I could just let it out, and for a while I was correct in this.

It wasn't long though before I started failing tests. I think one of the earliest blunders I made was during a discussion about oral sex.
She asked me ( reading from a list, I believe) what I would think of her if, on a hypothetical first date, she gave me a post-dinner BJ in the parking lot.

Being honest, I said that I'd consider that as a good sign that she liked me and I'd certainly be interested in a second date. I think most men would agree with me, although they might not admit it to women.
This, I think, was not the answer she wanted, but I'm making that observation with the benefit of hindsight.
At the time, I thought it was an invitation of sorts and I began an open campaign to woo this woman into actually meeting me in person; the physical distance between us wasn't unmanageable.

If there were no 'sparks' in real-life, we'd just have coffee and conversation and I'd go home without overstaying whatever welcome was presented. I certainly didn't expect a first-date parking lot fling- I just wanted to meet this person and see what happened...I'm a chaotic 'make-it-up-as -I-go-along' sort of guy, so I've always been attracted to organized, obsessive, list-making women. It's a balancing factor, I suppose.

It seemed reasonable to me that we should meet at some point.
My letters to her became my feeble attempts at courtship, a ritual I do not understand but deeply want to.
I ruined it.

The more passionate my letters became, the colder her replies, until at last I received an email that started with this cruelly crippling phrase: "For future reference..." which , of course, means that there will be no 'future references'. In the email, my character was accused, tried, convicted and executed- the only vague part being the accusation.
The execution was quite clear.

I was dead to her.

I should have stopped there and let it go, but I tried to figure out what I had done wrong.
This was a fool's errand.

I didn't do anything wrong.
Neither did she.
It's just that at that time,we both needed something that we couldn't get elsewhere, and at some point she stopped needing me as much as I needed her.
That is my generous, benign explanation.

I have another theory however, one that is less kind.
The second theory holds that my friend , once presented with the possibility that we could easily meet each other and would probably get along very well, was terrified.
I found the idea scary as well, but that was part of the thrill- I didn't think there was any physical danger involved, but emotional injuries can be worse, despite that BS about 'sticks and stones'...
But, like I said, I'm a creature of risks and improvisations. I wanted an adventure and so did she- only not with me.
Somewhere along the line, her questions and my answers had been analyzed and cross-referenced and I was judged unfavorably. She, being unable to discourage me with confessions of her own dark secrets, started looking for darkness in mine.
The problem here is I have very little in the way of dark secrets. I admit to drawing much of my creative energy from the Darth Vader side of the Force, I've done plenty of bad things and I'm not going to deny them or pretend that I'm somehow morally incapable of doing the wrong thing.
It would be delusional and dishonest to make that claim.

The object of my desire had plenty of ammunition to use against me, but she chose to blindside me with something that seemed entirely constructed by her- her harsh judgment of me was as unfair as it was unexpected.

I agonized over this for far too long, but eventually, with some helpful advice, I got over it and moved on. After all, my own life was starting to gradually become livable again after 20 years of self-inflicted Hell...get on with it, as they say.

But recently it started again, this time with a different woman but in a very similar situation.
Only this time I cut it off without even thinking. I felt we were getting ready to become physically close and I withdrew.
I took my balls off the table and fled homeward in a purely reactionary response to imminent intimacy.

So that is my third theory- that my first friend didn't even think about her final words to me, that she reflexively ended our correspondence 'affair' when confronted with the possibility that it could become very real indeed. Not necessarily the stuff of romantic legends, not even necessarily sexual at all, just intimate, honest and painfully human .

Speaking for myself, I want those things more than I fear them- and I am deathly afraid of them.
As to others, I can only guess, and all my guesses are likely to be wrong.