This is an entry that's been a long time coming, I think.
I want to try to explain a little bit about how my brain works. At least one section of my brain. The part that's in charge of expecting responses to emails, phone calls, and text messages. I suppose it's also in charge of regular letters, too, but this is 2008 and nobody uses those anymore.
That particular part of my brain is flawed, yet predictable. And oddly fascinating in its own strange way. So I'll try to describe how it works.
As I'm not a mental health professional, however, I'll just have to use a couple of examples.
About two weeks ago, I emailed LaptopGirl to invite her to a new brewpub. This was on a Tuesday morning. By Tuesday evening, I'd had no response, and so I became certain that she was angry at me for something, or that I'd freaked her out by asking. Too fast and/or too much, maybe.
By Wednesday afternoon, there was still no response, so I became convinced that she'd packed up her shit and moved back to Arizona. Not specifically to get away from me, I didn't think - that was just a bonus.
By Wednesday evening I was certain that it had been because of me.
I remember emailing RockGirl, during that time:
"As her Jeep wasn't at her parents' house today, she has clearly moved back to Arizona. There is no other possible explanation."
By Thursday evening, I was convinced that she was back in Arizona, and that it was because of me, and that I'd never see her again. I'd only see her lawyer when I got the restraining order handed to me.
All day Friday I struggled to locate the pieces of my life from where they'd shattered on the ground. Again.
Friday evening, LaptopGirl came into Rich O's and said that she'd just figured she'd see me in person so she hadn't replied via email.
I was fine after that, but I'd had about 80 hours of torture.
A few weeks ago, HatGirl stopped responding to my text messages.
After a couple of days, I became convinced that she was angry at me for some reason. But, I kept trying.
By the time a few more days had passed, I became certain that her back was really bothering her and keeping her bedridden. So I texted her with encouraging messages.
After a few more days without any response, I convinced myself that LuckyFucker, her fiancé, had forbidden her from having any contact with me. That actually made me feel a little better, so I kept trying. Just a text message every day or so.
After a few more days, I became convinced that HatGirl and LuckyFucker had been in some terrible car accident, and that they were lying comatose in a hospital. I began to slowly accept the very obvious fact that I'd never see or hear from HatGirl again, but I still texted her a couple more times, just in case she'd snap out of her vegetative state.
Then last week, I became convinced that HatGirl and LuckyFucker had both died from their accident, and that nobody had thought to even let me know about the funeral. This thought really started to freak me out, so I tried one last time.
And she replied!
Said she'd never got any of the dozen or so text messages that I'd sent.
I've been fine after that, but I'd had about three weeks of torture.
I guess the important lesson here is that I like it when people reply to my messages. And, when they don't reply, well the reasons that I make up in my head aren't very good ones.
So, please reply.