After the note...

I told a few people, and they had a few choice words. Just about everyone stayed along the same lines--that I needed to move on, that this man apparently wants nothing to do with me.

Until yesterday, I had planned to find him and tell him to get rid of the note without reading it, realizing that sending it was a mistake and fearing that his girlfriend would come for my blood if she saw it. But when I called my dad last night, that changed. He disagreed, saying in so many words that if I tried to get this guy to delete his message, I'd only spark his curiosity and make him want to know what's in it that's so erroneous. "He'd find out anyway," my dad said.

While we were talking, my dad got me to realize something that had been the case for years: I always try too hard to get people--that's anyone, not just potential paramours--to like me and accept me, and I end up pushing them away in the process, although I don't mean to. And for some reason, I always thought passively sending notes and things would make things better, but it doesn't--putting things in writing tends to send the wrong message, especially in my case; I've always been an emotional writer, and I tend to go too deep in my writing.

Last night while I was on the phone and then while I was working, I went over it again and again in my head. The thought of my former classmate never speaking to me again over a MySpace message was painful and unbearable. It meant that there would yet another person out there in the cold, cruel world who disliked me and wanted nothing to do with me--and as far as I was concerned, I've already had too many of those people in my life. I told Dad that, too.

"No you don't," he said. "You think you do. You don't like yourself."

If I had a penny for every time I've heard the "you gotta love yourself" speech, I'd be crazy rich! Well maybe it's about time I start listening--I mean, really listening this time.

That means that I can't depend on this man or anyone else to validate me anymore. (In this case, that also means not fearing his girlfriend's wrath--she might break my bones but not my spirit, dammit!) I can no longer make them my judge and jury. All it's done so far is bring me down.

The worst this man could do is hate me for life and/or avoid me like the plague--yeah, very mature for a 27-year-old man--or his girlfriend could even arrange to have me banned from all of Fourth Street. But why should I let it wreck my day? After all, there's other men, and there's more to Louisville than Fourth Street. Surely I'll find another favorite spot sooner or later. Plus I think I've seen Fourth Street enough times over the past four years, anyway...it's not the end of the world. In fact, it might even open doors for me. :)