DISAPPOINTMENT

Matthew and I had a long conversation on the telephone the night before last, and it was really nice. There were so many things that I'd been trying to talk to him about for a long time, and it was like he'd finally heard what I was saying. He apologized for things that had happened, and by the time we hung up, I felt like I'd gotten everything I'd ever wanted. It was like Christmas or something.

Right before we hung up, I asked him what he'd want going forward, in a perfect world, and he asked me what I'd want in a perfect world. I said that it was a hard question for me, because the things I really wanted all would have had to have happened a few months ago, and you know, it's not like there's anything that can make that up to me now. I said that I *wished* there was something I could ask for to make it up.

He said he wished that as well, because he wished he could make it up to me. I believe he meant it. And he asked me if there was anything at all.

So I thought about it, and I said, yeah, actually, I can think of a couple of things that would sort of make things up to me. I was surprised, but it was like I suddenly realized that there *was* something I wanted. Then I said that I'd just say what I wanted, and I wasn't telling him that he had to do any or all of it, but that I would just say it and he could decide.

Firstly, I wanted to know if he had any of our old email correspondence saved, and if so, I'd like him to go back through it and read it. He said he did, and he would.

Then, I said, and this is more important, I'd like you to really think about things. Important things. The things I'd written to you in my letter, or religion, or politics, or whatever--it didn't really matter. Just to spend a little bit of time every week thinking about important things. That I'd like him to call me or write me or meet me once a week and tell me about what he'd been thinking about, but that even if he didn't feel comfortable doing that, that was okay, just as long as he did the thinking part. I won't tell you why I asked him for any of this, but he understood it, and he understood why it was important to me.

He said he'd do that, too. He said, "You know, I can even start reading the emails at work tonight--oh, wait, I won't be near a computer tonight."

I said, "That's okay. The thinking part is the thing that really matters to me anyway, and you can do that without a computer."

He said he understood, and he'd do it.

It was so wonderful. In a lot of ways, that's all I ever really wanted, and I was so happy.

Anyway, so yesterday, I was talking to him, and he didn't mention anything about our conversation of the day before. I kind of casually asked him what he did at work the night before, and he said that he and his coworkers talked about the usual work-related stuff, and we chatted about random stuff for a while.

Finally, a while later, I asked him, "Matthew, are you going to do the thinking thing?" and he shrugged indifferently and said, "Eventually," and started to walk away.

I felt so disappointed.

I think he's forgotten about the email thing, but that's all right, because it wasn't very important anyway. It was just a small thing that I wanted for myself. I'm not going to say anything about it--I really want for him to think about things, and if that's it, then that's sufficient for me, and I'll be content.

But I guess I know that he won't unless I keep asking. I know he meant it when he said that he wanted to make things up to me, but I guess I also know now that he only meant it until he hung up the telephone. (NB:It's not that he's deliberately being hurtful or anything. When I say that he only meant that he wanted to make things up to me for the time that he was on the telephone, it's just that, well, he's like...an infant in that "out of sight out of mind" stage. Once someone or something goes out of the room, they forget it exists. It's not deliberately mean or insensitive. It's just a blankness.) And if I ask him to think about things now, I'll just be nagging. And I don't want to nag someone to do something to "make it up to me."

I probably will anyway. I know that sounds kind of stupid, but if he does actually think about things, sure, he'll feel like I'm nagging and he'll eventually learn to hate me as much as he resents me. But there's the possibility that once he really starts thinking about things, that he'll develop a taste for it, and maybe he'll talk to someone else about things, and he'll be better for it, even if I don't get to be around to see any of it. And way down underneath it all, it's something I want for him more than for myself anyway. So if he hates me, but he ends up being better for it, then I still get what I want. So I'll do something that I know he doesn't want me to do, and I will watch him learn to hate me for it, and I'll know that I'll lose the half that's for my own completely selfish happiness; but that's gone and destroyed already anyway. It's only for a few weeks.

I know that logic, or the normal rules of life, say that the smart thing to do would have been to go along with my original plan and just walked away and never talked to him again. But I just feel and felt that there was this tiny glimmer of hope that if I just talked to him one more time, that he'd think about things, and then I could leave and feel like he was going to be all right.

What logic says is that what's going to happen is that I'm going to keep asking him to think about things, and he's going to keep giving me breezy responses when I do. And he might come up with something to say to me, just so that he doesn't have to hear me nag, but it will just be some kind of cursory attempt, more of a cheating on an exam than a study. And he'll do it breezily enough to let me know that I should take the hint and not press it. And eventually I'll stop trying, and then I'll cry a little, and eventually I'll give up and go away. I know that it will hurt me less in the long run to leave now, I know that's what I should do.

But there's the tiniest little chance that it won't happen that way.

Maybe the only thing I can salvage from this car wreck is a cigarette lighter, but I'm going to do my darnedest to save it. I can't help it. Andy says my inability to give up on people is charming, but I have pointed out to him that it's only charming when it's not directed at you. It's annoying as heck when it is.

I know this is a lost cause anyway. I know you can't try to think about things *for* someone else. I know that if he's going to get anything out of thinking about things, it's going to have to be because he decides on his own that it's something that he wants to do for himself. But I'm just enough of a starry-eyed idealist to think that maybe if he does it just once, that he'll then want to do it for himself.

And when we were talking on the telephone, it was really obvious that he had already thought about things a little, and he said a couple of times that he felt badly about things, and about what he had done, and he'd have to think about them and about how not to do them in the future. So I just felt like maybe he'd already started, and so it wasn't really lost after all.

I know, I know. Please don't say it. I know.

Hearing him yesterday made all of my Christmas feelings seem so naive and dumb in retrospect. I mean, I had really cried, I was so happy.

Whatever happens, I know that the next few weeks are going to have painful and disappointing moments. But it's worth it, to me, to try. It's something I really want.

I feel like the main problem here, though, is that I've wanted things. If I could get myself to stop wanting things, then I wouldn't ever feel disappointed.

After all, wanting things is selfish anyway.