sunday reflections on a pier

i was seated facing the ocean, the wind drying my moist-from-sweat-drenched hair, ruffling my skirt, the smooth sounds of bass, saxophone and trombone dancing all around me. it was a lazy sunday out on the pier, i sat there enjoying the music, the vista, the solitude, even.

i looked up and i saw you from afar. you are hard to miss, not because of your height [or lack thereof], but your shirt was an odd colour of blue and i could see this blur of colour even from hundreds, maybe thousands of feet away.

you looked like you were searching for something. back and forth, up and down, you moved all around and could not find. i turned my vision back to the african novel sitting open on my lap, trying to bring my thoughts back to it, but instead i thought about your search and, i realised that i was searching for something too, something i now know, i will never find in you.

dear jon,

i need to grow up.

i wrote the following post about a week or two ago, but it has been hiding on my pocket PC, since i've decided to grow up, i think it is most appropiate now.

jonathan,

it is not you I miss, but good times that we had. a part of me wishes it was you I really missed because maybe then I could sulk about a true love lost or something like that, but I can not lie to myself and the truth is is I am over the fact that you can not man up to your feelings and you can not handle being involved with someone at this point in your life. but I do miss the sweet times we had .... I miss seeing your sparkling eyes staring at me, deep with affection, I miss the heat produced by our clasped hands, I miss reciting the mundane details of my daily life to your impartial ears, I miss feeling like sitting in the comfort of your lap was the only place I would want to be, I miss playing with the chinny chin hairs of your goatee. I read somewhere that in getting to "know" people, people often tend to ask questions until they feel they have gotten to the "end" of a person, thus getting to "know them," most of all, I miss NOT asking you incessant questions because although I do feel I know you well, I never sought to find an end with you.

love,

me.

dear jon,

i want to leave you a message, i want to write it down and send it to you, so that you can keep it forever, if that is what you wish. i want to tell you off so bad, because you are being pig-headed with me, but i am too nice for that and, what's more, i love you and, my love for you will not let me do that.

why do you do this to me? you have to know i was joking. have to. on with it,

jon,
thank you for being an asshole to me, because in doing so, you re-inforce the idea that i have planted in my head ever since the day you told me whatever BS you did when we "ended." i say BS, because i swear that the reason seems to change ever so slightly and, i still am confused as to the whole "breakup." i use quotation marks because some things are still "normal" between us and it does not seem like we broke up, but oh well, back to my point.

thank you for being an asshole to me because you remind me why i knew this would never work. you remind me that i'm too kind, caring and gentle to be with someone who overlooks these qualities. you remind me of why you are the little boy that you are.

you remind me of how you can not seem to settle down. you remind me of how inconsiderate you are of the fact that you broke my heart, due to the liberties you took, of "deciding" for "us."

there is nothing wrong with a little love, i can not fathom why you have to run away. i guess you figure you'll never end up all alone.

does your heart not feel anything? i could of sworn i had it jumping. now, it is as if you hold back, emotionally you are empty and claim that you are not ready, but instead of holding back, i suggest you let yourself go and see what you are missing.

why do you want to go on this way? you do not seem to ever want to change your ways, all you have to do is decide to give love a chance, you might find out that there is some goodness inside romance.

you should put aside your pride before it is too late, i might fade away. be strong, hold on, to this love.

--with help from omar's lyrics of "little boy."

dear jon,

i forgot to tell you last night that the day we spent the whole day together, the day i realised i did like you, i didn't really until halfway through it. i remember wanting to inhale my tea so i could just be done with you, but something happened during our walk that made me change my mind. something happened. you lit something inside of me and months later, here i remain, intently trying to burn it out.

dear jon,

here i am, drifting on a cloud because i just spent the last 45 minutes on the phone with you and all of a sudden it dawned on me ... WHAT THE FUCK ... during our conversation i called you adorable, i told you i'd think about going to montreal with you, we flirted and i know you were trying to get me wet, you invited me over to take care of your sick self ... i don't even know what to say anymore...

dear jon,

this morning, after speaking to you i wanted to see you, to layer your body with kisses, to ... use your imagination.

why.

dear jon,

i admit it, i am a sucker. i called you tonight because i was convinced you were out wining and dining the next chick and i was eager to disturb you. despite all the male attention i receive, i have no energy to pay attention and give in to it. a part of wants it all [them, you], so i called in hopes of interrupting. but, womp! i was wrong, you were dining with friends.

dear jon, i no longer miss you but you still have a way of making my blood boil.

kisses,
me.

dear jon,

please do not ask for my work address when you can not even remember the date of my birthday [not for another month and a half] and tell me that you want to send me something.

my real friends do not send me gifts on my birthday, them calling me for a drink on the day/night of is enough of a gift.

asshole.

dear jon,

i received your e-mail that reads:

I just found out that “Audrey” a work contact who manages the Kraft food pr has gotten a couple emails I meant to send to you, it happened like 3 times she said… over the last couple months..

and, this is what i mean that i do not understand how i fell for you ... first, you have told me this before, [who likes to hear the same story twice unless it is good?] second, a couple implies two, meaning that if it happened three times, she could not have received a couple of e-mails from you. dig? [i have no tolerance for such errors in english mechanics].

remind me why i was so smitten again ...

dear jon,

i got a stomachache the moment i read your text i'm in queens. it is the same stomachache i get when i'm mad, upset or angry. i know that in my freshman year of undergrad for my first degree i learned in biology that the esophagus is attached to the stomach on one end and the duodenum on the other, but for me, i swear it is my heart.

i admit i was wrong in assuming that you must be so smitten by a new outer-borough chick that she brought you out here, when it really could have only been [and was] that you were stuck in traffic on your way to the hamptons, figures. only you could take such an event and warp it to make you seem cool, i'm in queens. why don't you make yourself useful and stop by to clean my son's excrements?

though you do play your cards right by asking how's little jonathan? in this manner, you secure my responses for at least one more day. but, get real, my dog is too precious a thing to be named after you, his name is Jordan, get it straight, buddy.

dear jon,

would i be incorrect in saying that you can't get enough of me? you have become my most dedicated friend, calling me every single morning, to say "hello." what is this all about?

you confuse me.

dear jon,

i am happy to know that you bought a work of art from a famous harlem renaissance painter. i am happy to know you are now a member of the young collectors council of the guggenheim. so, so thrilled. maybe now you can learn something about art that you haven't learned from all of the art history books you never picked up on your sister's shelf. maybe. i wonder if i was the first person you called, because obviously, i know i wouldn't be the first person you would tell, but i just wonder ... i shared my new baby with you, because i'm used to sharing my excitement with you, so i wonder if you did the same, because if you did, then i fathom you, the need to connect with the person you have been connecting with for x amount of time.

now, if you called to show off, that is a different story. so which one was it pochi?

dear jon,

today i thought about how i have too much vacation time and how my boss told me that i need to give him at least 3 date ranges for me to take my vacation, and there's only 6 months left in the year. i know i will be in tokyo in november [ps, funny how we loved to say "totoya," whenever we passed it, unknowingly realising that my cousin lives there ... ] and, next year i will be in germany for the world cup and maybe peru for a convention and then i thought ... maybe i could sneak in peru this summer and i thought i'd love to take him with me.

would you like to come? i can think of no one else i'd like to witness the ancient incan ruins, admire artisan crafts and, take in that wonderful food with.

why are you such a punk?

dear jon,

i spend a lot of time making sure i don't bruise your sentiments, because i care about you and because i know inside you are just a little boy, like omar says in his song. i make sure that you are okay with my little jokes and all the chaffing that i do.

now, i wonder if you think you help me or if you hurt me with all the calls, the e-mails, with the "i just called to say i was think---i'll retract that statement." Sir, what is all that about?!?!?!

how on earth did i fall for you? really. i found it funny that you called me after you had already emailed me twice to ask me who gave me my new dog. in the back of your mind, you thought it was the guy who had me sore, didn't you?

please baby, i know you well.

dear jon,

when you called me back, it felt like the good old times. when i only liked you and didn't rack my brain after hanging up with you to check if i said something stupid or not. i picked up your call while i was in my boss' office, me sitting on his desk, laughing with him while you asked me what was so funny. i missed my boss, in a sense, he's my safety net. in his office i felt safe. i could talk to you like the loser that you are without trembling like the little girl that i am. PS- i didn't hang up out of spite. i really did have to take another call. someone important, not like you [not anymore at least].

[though i do love you still, lets not kid ourselves].

kisses,
me.

dear jon,

this afternoon you called me. i still have no clue why although i waited on the line for several minutes for you to inform me. i am guessing that you missed me, you wanted to hear my voice. i mean, who calls someone else and does not say hello, just starts talking random sh!t, why, me, of course and, now, you.

but, i don't know why you started pointing out all the lovely woman walking past you. why you pointed out what underwear they were wearing. why? were you trying to make me jealous? is this your way of telling me you have moved on? is this your way of saying, "look, i can have them if i wanted to?" was this your way of getting back at me for saying that my body was sore from too much fucking [and obviously not you?] you took such a long pause before i could bubble out "i am just joking" that i thought your heart stopped. i commend you for making a joke out of it. nice try.

what was that all about jonathan? je ne sais pas. but i will tell you that as soon as i heard your voice my heart started racing and i was hoping for someone to call me. please, someone call me on the other line, please, cell phone, please ring right now. please, give me an excuse to get off the phone with this man.

you can act so dumb and it is times like these [or when i remember how selfish and immature you really are] that i admonish myself for ever falling for you. how that happened puzzles me.

dear jon, please don't return your own call.

statement of purpose

all the things i want to tell you but i can not, because
(a) i won't pick up the phone and call you
(b) i know it isn't worth it to tell you
(c) i am too chicken to do otherwise and,
(d) i am done making a fool out of myself with/ for you.