Temporary? Insanity

Part One

As our characters played out their amusing storylines on the screen, Dave and I gradually got to know each other through private messages, and long emails. Handwritten letters and packages followed. There were even a few confusing phone calls during which we mocked each other’s accents and laughed a great deal. Laughter, after all, is universal. Dave’s accent? Barely intelligible.

His hand writing wasn’t exactly stellar either, but oh how his letters got me laughing! Especially when he drew stick figure diagrams teaching me all about football. Within months, I was a staunch supporter of Everton, and would stay up into the wee hours watching Premiere League football.

My parents were more than a little worried.

I remember clearly the first packet of pictures he sent. My imagination easily steals back into that once locked vault, and plays them like a slideshow in my mind. I remember his pose, always with that cheeky smile, his red hair topping his lanky frame. I loved him ardently. In that passionate, all encompassing way that only an idiot can.

And that love? Was unrequited. Dave easily fell into the role of older brother. He teased me mercilessly, instructed me when he saw fit, and frequently bolstered my self-esteem with cheery pep talks. From him I gleaned my first glimmer of self-confidence, and I’ve often wondered how differently my life would have played out were it not for him.

I think I secretly enjoyed the drama of it all. Moping when certain love songs played on the radio. Getting caught up in dreams, and often nightmares, of what it would be like to meet him at last. Always though, Dave was my chum.

Until he heard about my first kiss that is. To put it mildly, he was upset. He declared his affection in a very aggrieved manner, then berated himself in his usual witty way. His own fault, he wrote, for not having braved the icy Atlantic and swooped me up when he had the chance.

Our emails and online conversations became more openly affectionate. We teased each other about what our first meeting might be like, coming up with increasingly ludicrous scenarios which left me giggling every time I remembered them. The timing of these remembrances was sometimes awkward.

That time marks a decided change in my outlook on life. I felt loved and cherished, even if from a distance. Yes, he didn’t know the whole of me, how could he? But what he did know he claimed to love.

Sadly, what gave me the greatest happiness I’d ever experienced in my young life, scared poor Dave. Eventually, his emails became more sporadic. The once strong flow of daily messages dwindled to a mere dribble. Emails became a weekly, and sometimes monthly occurrence. I wince as I remember how I reacted to this.

With blind panic.

There’s part of me that’s never entirely forgiven Dave for this. He’d known me for years. He was very well acquainted with my abysmally low self-esteem and my tendency towards paranoia. How often he’d gently teased me over it! Despite my obvious distress, his absences became more frequent and longer in duration. In time, I gave up hope of him ever contacting me again.

I threw away the letters. The photos. The especially sweet emails I’d printed out. I kept the books though. No amount of heartbreak could make me give up the books.

It turns out though, that I gave up hope a wee bit too soon…

To be Continued…

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