Bloyer man

In my last post, I talked about two tangents : about men who make me purr with their words, and about the mistakes I made when I was a softie.

I think I can combine both, when I say that I will not email Bloyer anytime soon.

Bloyer is a lawyer who bloges. I loved reading him, and have been doing so for the past year. His blog is nice, good to read with him being sarcastic without mean.

I had emailed him a few times, telling him about a bit of gossip that comes my way.

One day, I got an email from him, wanting a photo of mine. And with that, he also commented on my blog.

One of my favorite bloggers, he had something to ask about my blog. How could I say no when he wanted a photograph of mine? I emailed it to him( mistake # 1).

He wanted to know more about me. I sent him my facebook link and invited him to add me ( mistake # 2).

We started emailing. He wrote good emails. Lovely emails. emails that made me wet and horny. And fall in love. with him. With a man whom I had never met, whose real name I did not know ( still dont) and whose face I have never seen ( have seen since.) Shall we call this mistake # 3 to infinity? No, you prefer them in increments of one? Ok. mistake # 3 then.

Falling in love, when you don't know what the other person feels about you - apart from the making you go week on the knees - is not good for a person's emotional stability. That weekend was one of the most miserable ones I ever had. I moped around, wrote him umpteen emails, acted like a crazy woman and finally, in all desparation, told him that I was falling in love with him. ( mistake # 4).

He replied back. Said he loves me sometimes. Sometimes.Wow. And that hurt. A little too much. And he all but called me a bitch for expecting quick replies to his emails. I was hoping for an email a day. No, we dont sms or call each other. and he must be thanking his stars for not sending me his mobile number.

Bloyer did send me his photograph. He looked a bit like Vince Vaughn. It was the tiniest picture possible. I appreciated the picture. and the I love you at the end of the email.

In the email, he said he wondered how I would be, as a wife. How much I would love him. I was tired, emotionally. I do not have it in my to prove my love to him.

So I wrote him an email. About how I would be as a wife, how I would look at a relationship. It was one of the most honest emails that I have written. And no reply till now.

In the early days of our courtship, he told me that he would let me know if and when he feel that this is not going to work. Um hello, a bit of help here?

I want to write to him, telling him how much I miss him. I want to tell him to tell me why he is not replying, whether he wants to call off the whole thing. I want to tell him, looking at his eyes, that I love him.

But I love myself too. And naive as I am, rosey eyed as I am, I know that loving a man who does not trust me enough to give me his real name is going to end up in grief for me.

So I have stopped emailing him. But each time I get a mail notification, I hope it is from him. Each day, I hope a little less. A teeny meeny mite less.

I always thought I would end up alone, that a family life is somehow denied to me. I had made peace with that fact and looked forward to a happily single life. And then he came along. why could you not leave me alone? why did you want to make me dream?

Idiot.