In September of 2012, when I revived the "turn my back on love" experiment in full effect, I did so after concluding that I didn't take the experiment far enough when I tried it with Sara in 1988. Am I wrong about this latest development involving a very, very, attractive woman in my world? Did I take the experiment TOO far this time? After twelve years of pretty much spot-on intelligent decision making in regards to many, many attractive women who just did not present any substantive opportunities for dating, sex, romance, or anything like that, have I taken the experiment too far with this young woman?
What would it mean, if I have indeed turned my back on a genuine opportunity to get to know someone better? I really liked this person, too. I called the experiment, where I would ask myself some variation of, "What if I turned my back on love?," or, "What if I just blew this person off?"; I called that line of thinking following my buddha. The word "buddha" meaning a thought or concept that could possibly lead to an enlightened state if I "followed" it far enough. But, did I go too far this time? Is "what if I turned my back on love" just an extreme way of thinking that, in the end proves unsustainable, because it ultimately lead me to a too-far place?
That would be interesting, because it would mean that I took this path too far after TWELVE YEARS of finding great success while on it. That blows me away to think about that. What can I say? Well, the proof's in the pudding. This latest person I feel as if I made an intelligent decision about will join Celeste and Lauren in the pantheon of ones that got away since my diagnosis in 1992. If I'm wrong about her, that is. I will now have THREE missed opportunities I would like to have back since 1992 instead of the TWO that take up that position now. I can live with that. Although this idea that I've actually taken this experiment too far really gums up the works now.
What distinguishes Celeste and Lauren from this young woman I just blew off centers around the LACK of any suspicions about Celeste and Lauren. Whereas, this young woman I just blew off, whew, she fits in more with that Virgin Girl, or that Virgin Girl's buddy, or that former cashier, or "Katy," from 1985, or Veronica, from 1985, or "Wanda," from 1987, and on, and on, and on. Just a slicker-'n-owl-shit type that has dogged me for so long now.
What would it mean, if I have indeed turned my back on a genuine opportunity to get to know someone better? I really liked this person, too. I called the experiment, where I would ask myself some variation of, "What if I turned my back on love?," or, "What if I just blew this person off?"; I called that line of thinking following my buddha. The word "buddha" meaning a thought or concept that could possibly lead to an enlightened state if I "followed" it far enough. But, did I go too far this time? Is "what if I turned my back on love" just an extreme way of thinking that, in the end proves unsustainable, because it ultimately lead me to a too-far place?
That would be interesting, because it would mean that I took this path too far after TWELVE YEARS of finding great success while on it. That blows me away to think about that. What can I say? Well, the proof's in the pudding. This latest person I feel as if I made an intelligent decision about will join Celeste and Lauren in the pantheon of ones that got away since my diagnosis in 1992. If I'm wrong about her, that is. I will now have THREE missed opportunities I would like to have back since 1992 instead of the TWO that take up that position now. I can live with that. Although this idea that I've actually taken this experiment too far really gums up the works now.
What distinguishes Celeste and Lauren from this young woman I just blew off centers around the LACK of any suspicions about Celeste and Lauren. Whereas, this young woman I just blew off, whew, she fits in more with that Virgin Girl, or that Virgin Girl's buddy, or that former cashier, or "Katy," from 1985, or Veronica, from 1985, or "Wanda," from 1987, and on, and on, and on. Just a slicker-'n-owl-shit type that has dogged me for so long now.
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