I met him on facebook. I had sent him a friend request seeing his comments on another thread . Because the comments seemed agreeable and appealed to me at a personal level i sent my request which was, soon, accepted without delay. So, on paper, on rather on facebook. we were friends.
Being naturally gregarious i began the path towards intimacy. After discovering that he was a poet i was doubly assiduous in persuading him that i didn't initiate this friendship with opportunistic aims. Well, i do write and sometimes quite decently . And i do think my expostulations convinced him of a complete absence of any ill intent on my part. Thus clarifying my probity was the first step in building this friendship.
Initially i proffered tidbits about my life he responded equably to. Subsequently he reciprocated in kind. Soon we were writing frequently, almost daily to each other. While he was forthcoming it was my revelations about my life that were more detailed and precipitate. Habituated to candor i opened myself up to this impersonal interest and felt gratified, more than what he said, by the fact of his having said anything at all.
His information about himself, which he proffered became for me blueprints to his actual being. I took for granted the mnemonics he yielded, constructing a mythology around him. The fact that, at a subterranean level, i knew of the tenuousness of our closeness did not deter me. It,on the contrary, redoubled my denial.
In many ways, since i didn't actually know him i felt that i was looking into a mirror. I saw what i sought but what i sought was at odds with what there was.What was equally ironical was that i was seeing him as he wanted to be seen. And that compounded the self deception.
Eventually he blocked me. Because our relationship had grown so intimate, or an intimacy i misconstrued as propinquity i was heartbroken . I had come to rely on him. Perhaps he was tired of projecting an image. Perhaps he was terrified of my voracious hunger for human warmth. Perhaps he felt i was like a succubus, consuming and possessing him and for his own self preservation he had to block me.
It was not the fact of his leaving that left a rancor as much as the unexplained, unresolved cessation of this friendship. With a casual encounter such a perfunctory gesture could be dismissed as a foible but in this case, given the intensity of our intersection, the irresolution left a blank, black hole in my consciousness, never to be filled up again.