I'm talkin' 'bout smithereens

2003-10-12 - 7:53 p.m.

I guess I should talk about Stretch just so I can get it talked about and over with. When he first told me he's been reading my diary I wasn't sure if I was going to throw up before or after I passed out. But then, rather quickly, I switched from being shocked and embarrassed to being angry. Since I broke up with him I haven't done anything to be ashamed of. I certainly haven't done anything bad to him. Who's the one who shook his hand at his graduation when he wanted a hug? And I certainly never forced him to click anywhere or read anything.

But then he told me that he had thought that I had sent him the e-mail in an attempt to "tear him away" from his girlfriend. I could understand how me trying to break up his relationship with his girlfriend would make him angry, but if I really wanted to do that, somehow I don't think I would do it by sending him a link to my personal journal. It's not such a great feeling to know that someone could think that I would do something as subversive as that. Especially someone who I thought knew me pretty well.

After reading the first entry and realizing what exactly he was reading, reading further entries was his choice, and his choice alone. Who was doing the tearing then?

A few days ago I wished his older brother well with his heart surgery. In this same conversation that Stretch revealed to me that he has been reading my diary for months, he also asked accusatorily how I knew about his brother's surgery. He told me, of course, how else would I know? Did he think I've turned into some sort of snoop on top of my supposed underhanded relationship-wrecking? Yes, Stretch, I've tapped your parents' phone line. I get my jollies from listening in.

And finally--months? He forwarded to me the e-mail message he received and it was sent only a few days after the ones my other friends received. On the bright side, that means that this isn't a new round of e-mails going out. But why did he read it for months? Why did he all of a sudden decide it had been long enough? I'd written other sappy entries about him before. And I wonder, if somebody had handed him a paper diary of mine, would he have kept and read that, too?

And finally he told me that he had wanted to be friends with me again, but now he doesn't see how that's possible.

But after I calmed myself down enough to no longer really be angry about this, I realized I didn't care. So Stretch doesn't want to be my friend. Have I lost anything? No. So he read my journal. Has that hurt me? No. So he thinks that I'd sink to some sort of surreptitious undermining of his relationship. Does that change anything? No.

Perhaps this is just a bit of wishful thinking on his part that I would care enough to do these things and that he can get even with me by telling me he won't be my friend.

And you know what? Thank you, Stretch. Thank you for that sharp little kick in the pants that I needed to get me over that hill.

As I've pointed out before and as others have helpfully pointed out to me, it's not Stretch that I pine for now. It's love that I want. I want someone. Stretch is the only person I've ever loved. Foolishly, he and love are linked in my mind. It may take me a while to be successful, it may take until I've finally found someone else to love, but from now on I will make an effort to be sure they are separate.