7:06 p.m. - 2005-03-28
I have a load of enemies. I donít know exactly what it is, but people who play poker with me online seem to have a seething, burning hate for me. I get in scraps almost daily, and believe me, I never, ever, ever start it. My wee sis, who also is on the brink of joining gamblers anonymous with me, doesnít have this problem. Is it my screen name? Is it my tendency to be a good sport and graciously accept defeat? Is it the stupid icon that I chose to represent me?
A puzzle to be certain. I donít have any real enemies in real life at all.
I think it has to do with the internet in general. It is obvious that we are dealing with a new world now. I never would have been able to publish my thoughts to such a huge potential audience before the internet. Itís not only possible now, itís beyond easy. I have recorded bits of my life here that can be accessed by anyone.
A few people I know have had real problems with their journals being discovered, but I am lucky enough to not have to keep secrets, and shameless enough to not want to. Itís odd, Iím odd, and I never doubted that. But there are other problems that can arise from this medium. Problems that may only be problems because they are new.
When I first read Janeís online diary I was a little taken aback when I came across the accounts of her falling in love with her previous boyfriends. It wasÖunusual. Almost everyone has had previous relationships that started out in the same way hers didóin fact I had themóbut the experience was locked away in a private memory bank that didnít ever have cause to be exposed. I didnít realize this at first though, and was hurt, jealous, insecure etc. to read of how she fell for these men who only lived in these entries and even worse, my own imagination. The qualities that delighted her that I was obviously not in possession of. The sentiments expressed about them that seemed so similar to those being expressed about me. It was proof that I wasnít the first, and maybe therefore not the last to share this experience with her.
It took me a lot of work, and meeting a couple of her ex boyfriends didnít hurt either, to combat their mythical status in my mind. But I learned and came to terms with the fact that just because I could read about them they were not any more powerful than anybody elseís exes.
When I met Bean I didnít read much about her ex but was told plenty. Even with his reported good looks and endless game I was able to get over it pretty quick. Iím just me, and he was him, and if what he had was better than what I was offering she would be with him, right?
Right or wrong it sure was a hell of a lot easier the second time around.
The third time was painless. When I met Sharon she had an ex of 4 years who was again, model good looking, serious competitive kick boxer, muscles and motorcycles blah, blah, blah.
I didnít give a shit. At all. I donít know why she fell for me, but she did. And I believed her when she told me so.
Sharon stayed next to me while my mental state deteriorated last year. She supported me in a way that allowed me to trust her, even when my ability to trust myself with that kind of decision was shaky at best. She is a wonderful woman, and interesting and beautiful and intelligent and caringÖand she is a good writer too. Her emails are hilarious. When telling her this I also told her about my online journal, because I try to be funny too. It didnít occur to me that the she was about to face what I faced with Jane so long ago.
Long story, but the short of it is Pandoraís box cannot be reclosed. If you take the blue pill, or the red one or whatever, you canít unlearn shit. It seems to have been the knock out blow as far as her and I continuing on a path beyond friendship anymore. Probably in her best interest anyway, as my returning mental state means returning madness.
I donít really know what this phenomenon will become in the future. As records of people you meet become available on google, will you learn to deal with this new aspect of previously unpondered information? Will reading a poem about an ex-girlfriends booty sting no more than coming across a snapshot of her and him in a drawer? Will idiots like me learn that some things should be kept private? Will I take this motherfucking site down? Will Chiv accept that me living in the US for quite a few years now is a valid excuse for his newly noted view of me?
I donít know. I do know that I will make a few more enemies tonight when I crush some folks at poker.