You will have to bear with me on this one. Because I feel somewhat rotten for what just happened. Feeling like a fool all over again.
I guess the lockdown worldwide has had everyone glued online heavily which in my case caused a few peeps to reach out to me again. Mr. poet-cum-librarian was one of them. It started early last week. We hadn’t been in touch for many months except for the Christmas greeting he sent on Tumbler messenger. Although I was polite in dealing with him, I told him about being already smitten with someone else. The fact the dude is actually a dead poet from the Romantic period of the 19th century 🙂 was omitted in my confession. Having said that, I expressed my request to turn into a storehouse the blog he set up for me which he wouldn’t delete. Then we subsequently lost touch again. I became ultra-busy to boot. As in no communication between us for months … until last week.
He informed me he had gotten sick — afraid he might’ve caught covid-19. Because of our history I was genuinely concerned and could only wish for his recovery. The man had been significant in my poetic exposure and poetry appreciation — that I graciously acknowledge, even though I no longer carry the same feelings I’d had before.
The next day he assured me he was feeling much better. He conveyed gladness to have reconnected with me and our camaraderie was renewed. Because I was stuck at home, I wanted to be creative and was eager to post once more my lyrical attempts plus sundry stuff on our blog OLB. Having him as a reader has always motivated me to be mindful of my writings. There was, however, one appeal I made: That he wouldn’t comment on my entries in any manner — a privilege he had previously enjoyed. He seemed displeased — his ego slightly thwacked. Look, I’d had it with his rushed and half-hearted replies ages ago so he could get on to his next or waiting other female chatmates. I was practically doing both of us a favor. He displayed miffed behavior nonetheless.
In the days that followed, I couldn’t impel myself to write a single romantic stanza — which was easy for me in the past since I had designated myself as geena the romantic poet. It could’ve perplexed him even more. Having had access to my Tumbler files and former journals, he inevitably came to learn a lot about the type of person that I am.
I paid little attention to his own blog posts knowing some of them are about me, positive or negative. What took me by surprise was the one which touched on my fantasy life. What right has he got to barge into my precious domain and criticize me for it?
+++++ to be continued ++++++
Bohemian Sentiments 