I know I haven’t written much lately, but let’s face it. People are less prone to record their feelings for posterity when things are going well. And until lately, things had been going very well indeed. Of course you know that. You were the first one I told when she came into my life—when I first met Apple.
Do you remember? It was love at first sight. Oh sure, she wasn’t the type who would appeal to the average guy, but that was part of her charm. She was quirky, different from the rest. She did things her own way, even when everybody else had decided to follow a safer path. She was . . . like me!
At the risk of sounding superficial, I will admit it. It was that vulnerability that first attracted me to her—that sense that if I didn’t get to know her right then, she might not be around for long. At first I just flirted with her. I didn’t stop seeing others for almost a year. In fact, I can’t even pick the date when I committed to her wholly. I just looked around one day and realized that for months there had been only Apple in my life.
I won’t lie. My relationship with Apple wasn’t without sacrifice. There were things I used to do that I had to give up with her. Games I used to play with my friends. Contacts I had made. For a while, I even had to lie about my relationship with her at work, for fear that people would think I was out of touch.
But as my relationship with Apple grew, so did my affection for her. I would even like to think that the longer we were together the more she evolved in ways that reflected her concern for my needs. When we first met, she was almost deliberately rebellious. She would go out of her way to boast about how she was different from the rest—almost daring me at times to break off from her and follow the crowd. But I never did. As time went by my loyalty to her became almost fanatic. If anyone even looked at her with anything but adoration I would launch into self-satisfied rants about her virtues and the woeful, even embarrassing deficiencies of anyone who wasn’t like her–who didn’t share my zeal! My love for her was almost religious. Almost fanatic.
Maybe that was where things began to go wrong.
Not too long ago, Apple seemed to change. She didn’t seem to care as much about being different from the rest. She seemed only to want to be better. She began to try to find ways to reach out to a broader social circle, although only on her terms and at her pace. Soon she was perfectly comfortable interacting with others who for all of our previous time together had been—dare I say it—the enemy. I guess that was good. In the abstract it seems like a striving for maturity. Youthful rebellion usually gives way to accommodation as we age. It was just so different! It was just not the way things had always been. Instead of appreciating my fanatic loyalty, she began to exploit it. Her attitude had always been “I am here for you. I am the way I am, because that is the way you want me to be.” But lately her attitude has been my-way-or-the-highway. When I take even moderate exception to how she wants things done, she says there are plenty of other fish in the sea. Nobody is making me stay.
These days . . . some days . . . it is almost painful to be around her. She never wants to stay home anymore. She doesn’t care at all about putting down roots. She wants to be able to go anywhere and do everything from anyplace she wants. She never cared about the little things; now little things are her all-consuming passions. She has begun to take an obsessive almost exclusive interest in how she looks. When I go over to her pad she is almost impossible to connect with. She used to be open to so many ways to interact. Now she’s becoming more and more isolated. She will give what she wants how she wants, and she will take what I have to give her only as it suits her needs. Even when I try to hold her, if I don’t do it just the right way, she disconnects completely. It’s not a relationship any more. If I disappeared tomorrow, I doubt that she would even know I’d gone.
She told me that she wants to have a talk with me tomorrow. I have no illusions. I know what she is going to say. “Yes,” she will say “I still love you. But you have to realize that our relationship has changed. You have to think different. I want you in my life, but only on my terms.” She’s a coward in that way, diary. She has cut me off, stolen my affections. But she is going to make me be the one to say its over. Her ego won’t ever let her admit that it wasn’t I who unfairly rejected her.
And do you know what, diary? I am almost ready to let her have her way. Emotionally it has been over for some time now, and if the break can only be clean by my taking the blame, then that is how it just might have to be.
Who am I kidding? I know it isn’t true. Going out with anyone else will always feel like cheating. The truth is, diary, that she has me. I am her slave. If she wants to break up with me she can, but I just don’t have the strength to abandon her.
Thanks for listening, diary. You have always been there for me. My soul might be dead, but it’s good to know that books aren’t. Yet. Please don’t judge me. Maybe soon I will get the guts to move on. Maybe someday I will have what it takes to go out on my own. Maybe before long I will even have the courage to think different-LY!