Desperate Romantic: My Life as a Stalker (A Lamentably True Story)
7: the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
Dear Eurydice,
I seem to have a knack for saying the wrong thing to you. I write to you every day, and I’m always thinking of you, but most of it’s crap so I don’t send it.
I spent last Sunday – the day after running into you – writing long, sad screeds of nonsense and, thank God, I came to my senses after I read it over. The crux of what I wanted to say to you is still true, so I sit down a week later to have another go.
Basically, it’s this; you are always with me and I miss you terribly. Given the choice, I wouldn’t have it any other way because meeting you was one of the best things that has ever overtaken me. The only thing I regret is that I fell asleep on the night of day two (and snored my face off).
If I had known it was the last time I’d hold you, I would have stayed awake all night to run my hands over your arms and sides and watch you sleeping for every one of those precious seconds.
This letter brings us back to the (in)famous Bob Marley quote. We know it, but for the sake of accuracy:
“If she’s amazing, she won’t be easy. If she’s easy, she won’t be amazing. If you’re worthy, you won’t give up. If you give up, you’re not worthy. The truth is, everybody’s gonna hurt you; you just have to find the ones worth suffering for.”
‘Giving up’ is a strange notion. As you know, I’m not going to push if I’m told I’m not wanted and there is no greater turn-off than ‘stop’ or ‘no’. If I’m not wanted, I don’t want to be there. My situation with you is entirely different, however. The nights we spent together were exactly like when I was a teenager in love; everything was saturated and conclusive.
I was shocked to discover my mouth was full of superlatives and absolutes. Now that our week has passed, those things are all still there, and all still true. Except now they are united in a solution of beautiful, poignant sadness. It is miraculous to feel those things again on the doorstep of turning 40.
‘Giving up’ is not something I do, if the goal is a target or an object. But as far as another person is concerned, I have to be wanted and invited. And I take your refusal at face value out of respect.
That said, a big part of what was so amazing about meeting you was how fated it seemed; all the basic things we had in common. The way we just fell into an easy groove of conversation and the things we discussed were the things that were important to the both of us.
The amazing love-making that followed. And the honour of you feeling you could tell me anything – and that you chose to, so you could give me the supreme privilege of being the first partner you’d had in five years.
After you wrote and told me to bugger off, I had a strange feeling of overwhelming calm. If it were fated, then we would continue the way we had – when you were ready.
It turns out that the day after, I was given $10K out of the blue from a deceased estate, on the condition I used it to travel. Just as you had asked me to travel with you, the means to do so fell out of the sky into my lap.
Then, the next day, I went to the mailbox and found something.
I live at the intersection of four different suburbs, which makes for a lot of religious organizations. They are constantly mailboxing and they always know what will tickle the sensitive sucker. I found a little card that read as follows:
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it does not seek its own way, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Corinthians, 13:4-8
And there it is. I took one from another mailbox and I have one on my fridge and I carry one in my wallet.
Theme Park at its Darkest 
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