I used to say the right things; they would just come to me. Some people think that they are God's gift to mankind, not me. I am a person who considers himself lucky and it is very rare when I have had the opportunity to make my own luck.
Our relationship was tenuous in that I was just happy to say something that would make her smile now and then. Honestly, some days I could do no wrong. I could read the phonebook and she would just bust out laughing.
I'd make some offhand comment about barely surviving another day at work and she would laugh like I was a combination of Mel Brooks and Eddie Murphy in their prime. It was wondrous. It was a beautiful thing, though not so much for me, because I was always wondering just what it was that I did or said right. Eventually I grew confident, but not cocky because that would signify that I actually believed that I knew what I was doing and deep down; we both knew that not to be the case.
I didn't catch lightning in a bottle and to be honest, just what the hell would anyone do with lightning in a bottle? They would probably get killed trying to harvest it and I don't care how big the bottle is, it wouldn't hold or contain a bolt of lightning anyway. See? She would've been howling on the floor over that observation and me? I recognize that to be just as flat and dry as the floor of Death Valley.
At some point though I couldn't tell you when, I said the wrong thing and as far as I'm concerned, that is my true calling in life, for I seem to do it so well. When exactly did I said that wrong thing and what exactly was wrong about it, was just as equal of a mystery to me as to when I had actually said something right. I never saw the downturn; I just noticed that she laughed less, though I had attributed that to the complications that were going on her life.
Maybe she got sick of me, hell, I would've gotten sick of me too, if I had based a relationship on someone making me laugh and they couldn't deliver the goods anymore...a platonic relationship or not. Our last few conversations consisted of me calling her on the phone and her giving me curt or clipped answers, like someone that was cornered by "60 Minutes." Maybe that's what I should've done, shown up with a camera crew and asked her questions like "what was it that you found funny about me?" and "am I humor serial killer? Because you sure are acting like I made something inside you die."
After a couple of phone calls that almost froze me ear solid from the cold conducted through from her end, as well as emails that were even more terse, I just gave up. I thought we could still be friends, but if I couldn't say anything right anymore, what would be the point? We would just be in a room, me imploring at her with my eyes while she looks at everything in the room but me. No thanks, I could do that with a photo of her so she could get on with her life and I could suffer in private.
I wish her the best, I really do. And beyond that? I hope that she communicates with the next guy every step of the way through their relationship. Because if she chooses to continue down this path? She'll wind up as lonely as me, but slightly less enlightened as to why.
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