When I checked back the next night, 3rdEyeOfHorus had replied within only a couple hours, with a mini- novel; of which I was further intrigued. We sent a few messages of equivalent length back and forth before concluding we obviously vibed inordinately well and exchanged cell numbers. I had my usual reservations about becoming potentially involved with any romantic expectations, but figured I wouldn’t get ahead of myself and should at least try talking to someone other than a therapist.
Only things went much differently than the norm I had expected; I actually started caring about using my phone during the three allotted evening hours, during which we talked the entire three hours each night via text; things got intense very quickly, along with the whole finishing eachother’s sentences, feeling as though you’d known them for the longest time, and all of those other cliches that usually made me rather nauseous. We talked like this for just under a week, until one night he never replied.
I waited- rather aware that I was being ignored, but figured there was a reason; I wasn’t angry, as in my life I had been forced to grow very, very good at waiting. But I wondered in a somehow tormented silence if I had somehow managed to say something wrong, despite that I had still been rather vague as to the true nature of my life. He knew I was in treatment but as usual I downplayed how bad things were. I worried in a manner so highly uncharacteristic of me- had I scared him away, did he think I was crazy, or what in the hell was the deal when we seemed to be getting along so supernaturally well.
I felt foolish and childish, I felt that I had grown already somehow attached to this person who was barely more than a stranger. What the hell was going on with me? I had always been so great at not minding anyone or being ignored; how could this person’s doing so hurt so much? Was I becoming obsessed? I usually didn’t even give a shit if people liked me. I had no idea what was going on with me. I felt mixed up since the first day we spoke; like my insides had been ripped out and set on fire, but in a way that simultaneously felt as wonderful as it did hellish; like everything was wrong and right at the same time.
I heard from Jacob a bit over three days later, of which he said that he had needed some time alone to “think things over;” Things I wasn’t exactly sure what. He said that he was confused because he was always one to be very careful and reserved to not get carried away in mere childish infatuation, but that he felt he was in love with me. At first I was so surprised I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t exactly know if what I felt was love, lust, a bit of both, or simply getting too caught up in a chemical cascade; but there was definitely an undeniably compelling attraction- a thing I had never as much as felt before in my life. I was pretty sure I’d never even been “in love” before- much less one to prematurely assume such- but ventured to say that I loved him too. And that was when the fighting started.