Facebook love story (part 3)

[...]Luckily, we didn't live far away from each other. We decided that she would come to see me. I don’t know about her, but I made all the preparations as if I was celebrating 10 years of a real relationship, imagining I knew her so well I could have asked her to marry me on the spot.

Everything was in place: at a quarter to 7 in the evening I was seated in a nice pub,  waiting for her to come: flowers were in place as well as emotions. And she arrived. It was exactly as I’ve imagined, only… my mind went blank. I barely got up and offered her the flowers I’ve brought and I went numb. There I stood in front of the woman of my late dreams and I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I felt drained. I felt empty. I felt like a squashed lemon. It seemed that all that was important had already consumed, that we’re only witnessing the end of the first act of our relationship. The first act of a play which hadn’t started yet. It appeared to me that, somehow, the real life started to lack flavour. What the hell was wrong with me? I had to pull myself together.  There she was, right in front of me: my girl, my toy, my fantasy, my reason to spend entire nights at my computer, the reason to live.

 “Hi, A.!”

“Ummm, hi.

 “Get your shit together, man”, I told myself, “become the fearless A., the tender yet strong A., the polite yet inflexible A., the A. she admires, she wants, she'd missed, right here, right now!”

“Is there anything wrong?” she asked as she looked around.

“No, it’s all fine…ummm, nothing; welcome, please sit with me.” I took her coat, held her chair and then sat right in front of her and looked her in the eye.

“Finally”  - I said, “we meet in the flesh; you look a lot prettier than in all those pictures I’ve seen – there’s a strange electricity in your look.”

‘Giggles’ – “A, you are the charmer I always knew you’d be: delightful from the very first sight”.

The rest of is lost for me, actually it’s a blur I’ve lived so many times: compliments, charming and witty words to her pleasure, stories about our lives, sweet little nothings: all echoing May, May, May, May. All this perceived as foreplay. I didn’t even have to ask her to come to my place. We just found ourselves naked in my bed. We did it twice. The first time hastily, without any attention to details, it was a raw fuck, animals possessing each other on the brink of all that’s left of civilization, two intense flames devouring each other into becoming one. Then we had to rest for while. The second time, we've simply let our bodies discover each other: the scents, the touches, the hair, the thrill.    

Facebook love story (part 2)

[…]We've decided we could take it to the next level. We celebrated this by having virtual sex. All of a sudden, we’ve become a committed couple. It was nice, but I couldn’t help myself wondering what was the difference between jerking off to a Hustler magazine and jerking off to a 17’ flat screen: this time feelings were involved, while the Hustler magazine comes for a price, while for the Internet connection I paid an monthly subscription. Now, it was wanking with a purpose, hahaha.

Actually, virtual relationships come at a heavier price, this I’d found out later and none the happier. All went well for a few months. We used to spend two to six hours online talking, sharing pictures, playing games, even watching movies. We shared cooking recipes and advice regarding the best detergents. We had fun and we’d cheer up one another whenever we were upset. 
Eventually, we decided to meet in the flesh.[...]

Facebook love story (part 3)
Facebook love story (part 1)

Facebook love story (part 1)

For days, then weeks, we've exchanged messages and images and we've shared our most intimate thoughts. Her name was May. 

I felt, we both felt something was growing there, I couldn't tell exactly what, but there was definitely something.  We were getting close, so close. Despite all this, I didn't realize I didn't know whether that was her real name or where she really lived. I could go on just knowing that we had something going on. Practically, I was establishing a relationship with a name attached to an image. This was actually the core of any attempted relationship: we always idealize the one towards whom we develop feelings. We tend to look over any flaws and faults, just to bring that person closer to our ideal, the ideal us projected outside of us, that which we long to identify ourselves with. It must be somehow a part of the Janus complex still residing in so many of us.

I started to fantasize about our first meeting, then about our second and the third. I imagined entire conversations, I made plans. I used to jerk off imagining that we had sex. This went on hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month, so after ten month or so I suddenly came to realize that I started to come back to a machine – a machine that delivered a message – after all, when the machine was broken, so was my heart. Weird. 

I so much depended on a messaging software (my computer or my smartphone) to create some sort of illusory happiness, that I often confused the message with the messenger. After all, on the other side of my broadband line could have been a bot, for all I cared. It was all in the illusion I so happily lived, I completely consumed it and it has consumed myself for all this time.

After a few months of virtual relationship, my brain was so cooked, that I imagined I had a real relationship, although all I did was I chatted online and left online messages, exchanged pictures and short home movies. I manifested all the symptoms of a guy who was really in love. The only thing was, I couldn't answer a simple question, should anyone had asked: can we meet your girlfriend? Well yes, I could share some images, but there was nothing to prove our relationship other than infinite logs and instant messaging archives. I started to grow impatient.

Facebook love story (part 2)  

#currentsituation: Slave to the quote

In this current situation, mediocre individuals (to say the least) who use in their speech quotes attached to famous names get to feel really witty and inspired. 

So true, so fucking useless. First, those people they quote, may they be dead or alive, had real lives. During their real lives, they lived, worked, whatever, but more importantly, they thought. They were active individuals on the pensive front, and it's useful as well as respectful to quote their work. 

On the other hand, we have the huge mass of pseudo-intellectuals. People with the instinctive grain of understanding that if they relate to a smarter individual, they instantly become smarter themselves or get the appreciation of others. The worst kind are those who like to share significant amounts of quotes often attached to catchy images: yes, I am talking about the social media attention whore. They not only irritate me, they irritate the common sense as well. They're the new bulimic intelligentsia. Gulping up quotes of famous folks, regurgitating them in they tiny minds and spitting them out undigested for us, the meek, for guidance and illumination. They roam the Internet up and down full of useful advice and full of shit. Protected by search engines and other sources, they feel they KNOW and we, the others, don't. 

Originality is an ambiguous concept, especially these days, but it still exists. Instead of regurgitating fragments of wit, these people should get out there: get a life, do stuff, think, create, try to evolve.  But hey, this is so fucking complicated. It implies effort, it implies thinking for one's self, maybe some training and discipline. Maybe even some self-sacrifice. Self sacrifice, is there an app for that? 

What drove me to write all this is not the mere existence of this kind of people. It's their attitude, their so called helpful attitude that disguises the emptiness of their narrow minds, topped by the feeling of superiority, created by the belief that attaching their insignificant selves to some personality, they matter. Actually, they don't. And they call themselves free, free thinkers, open minded, hip and all that crap. Where's your freedom when you live someone else's life, even better, try to think their thoughts, where's the free will? Well hidden underneath a disgraceful display of mediocrity and lack of inspiration.

If anyone can show me one of these quote freaks who actually remembers so many quotes to live their life by, I'll become their humble servant. But I'm afraid this won't happen any time soon, for the simple fact that such a person is smart enough not to put up a show of ridicule and buffoonery.


#currentsituation: thought of the day

Figuring out what one doesn't want is a hell of a lot easier than figuring out what they want. #currentsituation

#currentsituation: religion, love

Religion is nothing more than an accurate expression and at the same time explanation of love.

Something irrational and infinite - such a thing can only be called love. The love of god, in this case.

Where human love might perish when the imperfections of the loved one surface, the love of god can be timeless, since god (as the imaginary, thus perfect being) is completely incapable of doing anything to alter the image of perfection. Everything else is simply an act of human imagination.


#currentsituation Freedom: purpose

Today I came across a nice caption regarding life's purpose: 'Some of the most interesting people I know don't know what to do with their lives'. #currentsituation

I find this quite intriguing as true at the same time, plus it spoke to me whereas I figure myself in the same situation (whether I am interesting or not, that is for others to decide).

The point is 'the purpose'. I am inclined to believe that it's the purpose that really shapes us, rather than the environment. Of course, the environment has its input on us, nevertheless, but I believe it's the purpose, may it be final or temporary, that really drives us in some direction.

I reckon this is why these folks look interesting: they explore alternatives, strong enough not to give in to a single paradigm, yet not powerful enough to really commit to anything. It's all about the perspective on change: instead of adapting to change, we live the change, we try and be the change, ultimately we bring the change. Unsettling as it is, I like to think it as evolution.


#currentsituation Entrapment? Freedom?

All my life I've been trying to avoid myself: to destroy all that's been implemented by parents, education, society and above all, I tried not to live the life of my parents. 

Of course, this is bullshit at some level, since I live in the society. However, the thought of leaving the ME, like a snail can leave an empty shell behind, never disappeared. After I first experienced it during my teens (experienced is correct - it struck me like some sort of a foreign influence), I thought that it came as a natural manifestation of the confusion due to the age.

In time, I've learned to live with it, while continuously feeling inadequate to any environment, family, friends, work. The paradox which followed me along the way is the fact that I managed to get very well into all aspects of this life. Got the social skills, and I can't stand people. Got a good job and I'm pretty good at what I do, and I don't see like I'm doing some thing useful at all. Got friends, and never really felt completely comfortable with them, got girlfriends, but never really knew what a relationship implied.

The deep feeling of inadequacy never left me. It only determined me to try and find a solution that would ultimately get me to fit in. Nothing worked, so far, still I strive every day to be a better human.

I try to get to another level, somehow. Emotions are obsolete. They are no more than recurrent impressions of the past. Somehow I don't feel the joy of joy and the despair inflicted by pain; it's all diluted and senseless as I watch myself from another dimension at times. I wish it were depression, but it isn't, at least not yet. That's what I meant by losing grip.

Sometimes I long for that  down to Earth stuff so I prey on others' emotions: this lasts for a little while, of course, but in the end it's like listening to the same old song. The only funny part in this is wondering: what's next? Is this entrapment or freedom?


#currentsituation A lesson in freedom: expectations

Simple things bring pure bliss when considered accordingly and not turned into some stupid expectations charged with a thrust of misplaced emotions. That's because having expectations from others may prove to be the utmost act of egoism.  

Requesting without considering the requests is one of the most selfish acts once can impose on someone else. On the other hand, there's the completely altruistic act of offering without trying to bind, of giving without expecting payment, of sharing without implying reciprocity. 

The best thing is that emotions hyper accelerate strictly because the end is within reaching distance. When dwelling in a happy state and then suddenly confronted with the spectrum of discomfort, pain, suffering, we tend to go into an emotional overdrive. Cease the bloody happy moment, since we are certain that dire times are to follow. 

Ending's shadow projected on us create an intense wish to accelerate emotions: in both blissful and painful situations. If we're experiencing pleasure, contemplating the end of this state drives us into the frenzy of grabbing the best out of it. If it's wretchedness we're talking about, we accelerate by trying to speed up time (to end it) while burying the pain and recalling the pleasure.

In either of the cases 'carpe diem' appears to be the right action to be taken. The pure concept of 'ending' may bring up the conscience of being alive and able to choose, as in taking another step closer to achieving freedom.