My poet friend, Mary Ann, sent me a screen shot of the webpage.
It had a photograph of the stair leading up to the apartment and an invitation for a male friend to come visit.
Her (my co-worker’s) site had been closed to me for months. So, I stopped bothering to check the site sometime in mid-June.
Mary Ann thought I should see the post, perhaps to convince me of how she has moved on, and not everything she posts is not about me.
I don’t know why I felt jealous, but I did.
When I went to the site, I found it open again, although scrubbed clean of all those intimate messages she had with family members and friends. Except for that Mae West posting to some male friend that sounded a lot like, “Why don’t you come up and see my sometime.”
She had also posted a picture of herself at the beach, taken by her brother during the same week I was on vacation.
I had assumed she would have gone to the beach with her new boyfriend, not her brother. But she’ always surprising me like that.
Why did she unblock me on Facebook after two months of being blocked?
Was this some attempt to ensnare me, to make me think things have thawed with the hope I’d try to contact her again. I still suspect some other signs of thawing that may have had a similar intent, trying to get more evidence to use against me.
She obviously is still concerned about me, looking over her shoulder (as one poem put it) to see that I’m still there.
Maybe she’s right about me in her last poem, about my being elusive, I mean.
I’ve been very careful not to do or say anything that would feed her paranoid illusion about me being a stalker.
I am fascinated by how she goes about getting what she wants.
But the poor guy from Brooklyn, I think, really loves her – or at least is obsessed with her, and from what I recall from the texts she showed me, she seems to have prodded him into responding when he would have been wises not to.
I can’t help thinking that some of the thawing I though occurred over the last month was more of the same with me, expecting me to over react the way the poor guy from Brooklyn did.
So, when I don’t respond, I get labeled “a schizophrenic jerk, an ephemeral vagrant with borderline personality, a nagging bother with a clever, ill-timed (snicker) elusiveness.”
It’s a no-win situation, I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t, but I’m better off damned for not reacting.
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