Alas I find myself yet again here peering into the diodes that make my cursor blink. It has been a year since I last saw her. The memories are always the same. I see them as though I had lived them but five minutes ago. I feel her breath on my face. I smell the perfume of petal mist that she wore. I taste the sweetness of her lips. I hope this will give me some resolution. You see, reader, we ended for not a lack of love (at least on my part). I remember...

I, being a male of some experience in the art of billiards, was one of the loneliest guys on the campus of East Carolina University when I showed up there in the summer of 1996. I had left my high school a big man, the one whom everybody knew and liked, to one degree or another. I went from a place where I knew everyone to a place where I knew no one and mattered to less. I remember the student centre where I lived, which was about a 15-minute walk down a long hill and across campus. The walk was scenic and for the most part enjoyable, except during the sun of midday. But anyway, where was I going? Oh yes, billiards. You see I spent much of my time at the student centre playing pool against everyone and anyone. I enjoyed it. I competed and won. Or lost, it didn't really matter to me. I just lived in that social realm for those few hours. I was with people for a little while and that made all the difference to me.

It was one night in August that I met her. I can remember it as vividly as I remember what I had for supper tonight. The night was damp and warm, a typical North Carolina evening. I was wearing an olive drab shirt, khaki shorts and my favorite ball cap. I describe this not to make myself the embodiment of fashion but rather to lend myself some humanity. I sauntered into the pool hall and noticed that the usual crowd had formed themselves about their favorite tables. Mine was second from the back on the left hand side, with the light which flickered periodically. If you made your shots in time to the light it would produce the most extraordinary strobe effect. I showed my student ID to the worker (you all know the one, the ID with the picture of you as an adult though your physiology says something to the contrary), grabbed my stack of balls and headed to the table. Tonight was different though, Mike wasn't at the table next to me like he usually was. I worried for a minute and then realized that Mike had developed a life and was out somewhere else. So I dismissed my worries and started to rack my pool balls. I passed a casual glance at the guy next to me. He was playing pool with his girlfriend in such a manner as to allow her to win but to demonstrate that his skill was superior to hers. You know the situation, the one where if the guy wins you know the evening will be ugly but if he lets her win it will still be ugly. So the guy opts to go for broke and complain about the pool cue being bent or the table being warped whilst he bounces the target ball off four bumpers and sinks it ever so gently into the side pocket, just behind where the ball sat originally.

Well anyhow, I played on my table by myself for about a quarter of an hour. Then I noticed her. The couple playing on Mike's table together had dragged their friend out to have a good time with them, much to her chagrin. I took the opportunity to study them in great detail while I pretended to line up the shot of the century on my table. I looked at the guy who was letting his girlfriend win. He was a large guy, not really fat but a few pounds overweight, with enough grease in his hair to make him look the part of someone who has a penchant for being unhealthy. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, nothing too extravagant but enough to make him semi stylish (in college terms of style). He nodded periodically to me and said hello. He seemed amicable enough for a complete stranger and one who could present great challenge on the pool table to me. His girlfriend was an attractive female of about eighteen or nineteen, and had delightfully long hair that flowed about her body. Her eyes were a pale green, or at least appeared so under the light of the pool hall. She was outwardly flirtatious to me, passing a smile and flick of the hips at key times when she thought I was looking. And I was looking, but not at her, through her.

It was the girl they had dragged along whom I was interested in. I am not an outwardly social person when it comes to women of beauty such as that which I saw in her that night. Through the dim lighting of the pool hall an awkwardly romantic glow was placed about her. And me being the stunning idiot that I am, nodded and played as obscenely obvious as could to being cool with out being cool. She was pretty. She appeared to have a summer cold and wrapped herself up in a jacket two times her size, I think it was his. She looked miserable at being subjected to her two companions pseudo-sexual antics about the pool table. I said hello to her and passed a casual joke to the table, even going so far as to stand on the opposite side of my own table and shake my head at an impossible shot that I knew would not connect. Thankfully she noticed... I remember setting up one of the easiest shots imaginable, '2 ball on the pocket and the cue ball lying strategically placed in an open lane allowing for easy scoring'. And what did I do? I launched the cue ball across the table. Why did I do it? I looked up and noticed those clear blue eyes shining brightly through the dim lights and making connection with mine, and of course my arms didn't get the halt order before my eyes ceased to function on their own. The result was an embarassingly long shot of the cue ball against the chair in the far corner of the room, resonating with a loud and thunderous clang. I smiled. she giggled. That would be the first of five launched balls I would have on that table. Finally she did talk to me and I got her name, a beautiful name. Of course I talked mainly to her two friends who seemed to sense my draw to her. The girlfriend gave me the number to their room and soon they left. I felt so sad that moment when they left. Games henceforth were worthless. I could not get her image out of my head. Her, bent over herself, couching and shaking her head, looking exquisitely miserable. With a smile that shone through the misery that wrought her body. I remember how she wiped her nose with her tissue and smiled, embarassed to have been caught doing so.

Soon I left the pool hall realizing that any effort on the pool table would be pointless, my mind was with her. I wandered home slowly and with a slight bounce in my step. The stars seemed brighter, the moon seemed clearer, the air seemed crisper. The walk had never seemed shorter. I walked home looking at the phone number I had in my hand, rehearsing the lines that I would say to try and get her to come and see movie with me, or just to see me again. I walked up the hill to the dormitory in which I stayed, looking at the dining hall on the route, wondering if I should get some chow but thinking better of it. I was far too ecstatic to eat. I knew by the number I was given that she stayed in the same dorm as I did, so gradually I began to formulate a plan to see her again. I mounted the steps to my room, thinking the entire way. I unlocked the door and found my roommate asleep with his girlfriend on their bed. She was mildly awake and said hello as I went over to my 'dry erase board' and wrote down the phone number for future reference. Sleep did not come easily that night. Her face ran through my mind a dozen times a minute. The way she laughed. The way she walked. The way she looked at me, totally innocent but with a hidden beauty that I would come to know so well in time. I rehearsed over and over again the lines I would say to her, the reasons we should date, the hopefulness I had towards our being together. Finally, about 15 minutes before I was supposed to get up, I fell asleep.

Good memories of relationships are like sweet chocolate while you are on a diet. Especially once you try to leave a relationship behind. It is quite counterproductive. But I would like to air this laundry, so to speak, in the hope that its existence in the ether that we call 'the Internet' will help purge the emptiness that I have felt inside and enable me to look forward to other relationships. I am sure this is much to the dismay of my esteemed colleague and very best friend 'TacsatDuck', who feels I use this medium to release pent up rage on a subject that might make me mad, but I see this as the last and final installment of this relationship. You see, after being involved with someone for 4 years, and I will say it was a great four years, and to feel the love I felt, a love unrealized in that we never married, the need to rid these feelings in such a way that allows one to move on is a necessity. Epecially considering she has done just that. This is, again, my final installment on her.

I remember how I walked off the airplane after five weeks of infantry training, the tan of her body after a summer spent in the sun. I remember how her summer dress fell about her body as I walked off the plane and the smell of sweet perfume that she gave off. I remember that first kiss as I walked in. After such an experience of endless days marching and fighting and marching and the reduction to the most base of human conditions, I remember how she felt so soft and feminine. I remember the contentment that ensued. She never understood how, in that moment in the crowded airport, how much my heart soared to feel her soft body next to me. I remember the drive home and the desire that filled both of us. We talked about my experience and of nothing in particular. As she drove home the smell of her perfume filled the car. I remember the way I held her hand as she drove one handed down the highway and the smoothness of her fingers as they intertwined in mine. I remember looking down and seeing the perfection of two bodies intertwined and the way I felt at home with her. I will never forget the way I felt the true meaning of home in her. I remember the way she took me back to our apartment and the way dinner was made and the way the table was set. She drew me a bath and I sat there in my most vulnerable as we talked. About how much I missed her and how much I wanted to be with her and how much the five weeks had left me lonely without her there. I remember getting out of the tub and having her pamper me. The way her hands glided over my skin, the way she kissed my ear as she laid my clothes out for me. I remember the dinner we had and the way her eyes twinkled in the candlelight. I also remember the way we got up after dinner and held each other and the sigh of contentment that we both shared in that moment. The way our hands touched each other like we were made of the most delicate of porcelains. The way her hair fell about me as she kissed me and we lay back on the bed. The way her tanned skin looked in contrast with her golden blond hair, like a wheat field against the sun. I remember the way she looked at me, like I was the only man on earth and how any insecurity I had faded away because I knew in that instance, that no matter what happened, her love was true. Most of all I remember being home.

I remember those first moments of intimacy. I remember sitting behind her in the same chair as she did her homework at those underspaced desks they put in college dorm rooms. I remember teaching her how to play racquetball and how she wore the most revealing outfit she could find and how as I leaned over her back to teacher the proper swing she ground herself into me and looked deep into my eyes. Seeming to grasp every word I said but not understand, a game women play all to well. I remember sitting in her room as she got her shower basket together and looked at me to tell me to get in the shared bathroom amongst the suite. The way she told me to strip and be in the shower, the nervousness I felt, and the love I knew in an instant when she got into the shower. The way how our first shower was an event in discovery. We grew to know each other's body and the way it moved, the way we held each other in all our nakedness and how our eyes met. The deep color of her eyes was hypnotic. And how we bathed each other unabashedly. I remember how our first kiss happened as we leaned forward on two different beds and our eyes locked. The sweetness of lips and the softness of her face, and the way her eyes filled with love and attachment as the moment occurred, the way her hands pulled at my back as she tried to make my body a part of hers, and how I pulled at her hips and neck trying to do the same. I remember the afterglow that we felt. The way we take a shower together again and walk about the campus holding each other close like we shared a secret that no one else knew.

I remember waiting outside her classrooms. I remember the way I looked in the miniature windows for her and the way my heart leapt as our eyes met. I remember pacing outside those classrooms. I remember the way I would pace up and down the hallway during those last five minutes waiting to see her smile as she walked out of the classroom. I remember the ecstatic feelings I had as she walked out and I fell in love with her all over again.

I remember how over vacations I longed to hold her, to smell her, to taste her and to feel her. I remember sitting outside my job at home calling her about the tips I made and telling her how much I loved her even after the phone cut me off. I remember the fantasies I shared with her and how she made every one come true. I remember how she came to visit me at home and how I took her to the local park and station wagon.

I remember the afterglow we had. The way our heartbeats raced after the act and the way our sweat dried on each other. The look in her eyes as she said I love you. And how once we had our apartment, the way we showered together, the way our skin felt in our post orgasmic haze. I remember the way sleep over came us as we cuddled, and how our we never once lost contact with each other during the night.

I remember how I asked her to marry me. I took her to the place we first met, the very pool table. I had my best outfit on and as we played I got down on one knee and asked her. I remember the way her eyes lit up as she saw the three-quarter carat ring (it's half carat total diamonds on the band), the way she whispered yes and the way her eyes welled up with tears. The way that she showed it of to all her friends whenever we went out and that the way she cleaned it incessantly.

I remember the way we would go to movies together and sit up in the top row and hold each other close.

I remember calling her from work and hearing her voice on the other end. How no matter how bad things were, she always made them better.

I remember going to her folks' house and sitting on the porch as the swimming pool shimmered, looking up at the stars and thanking god for putting her in my life.

I remember going to the mall with her and feeling like I was king of the world because she was with me. I remember the need to touch her, the need to smell her, the need to feel her.

I remember wanting to be with her no matter where I was. I remember shopping for her and taking notice of all the things she looked at, just so I could spend every last dime I had to buy her those things she pointed out and those things I thought she would love, glass plaques that stated my undying devotion, the statuettes of angels and the glass kittens. I remember coming home with roses and cards, filling them out in my car as I drove home. I remember those days when she was sick bringing home movies and gifts to make her feel better. I remember the way I would touch her body and feel pure energy bolt into my own.

I remember how her body cast shadows upon my wall in the candlelight. The way she laid there offering herself to me. Her black negligee lying on her body hinting at her nakedness. I remember the allure in her eyes and the welcome she extended to me.

I remember laying there in the bed we shared, reading, putting the book down and looking at her, laying there, in her most vulnerable.

I remember too much. I need to forget...

Sometimes, reader, all the signs point to yes and it is just not meant to be. I am not saying I am a fatealist, but I do believe that each and everyone of us has that one person that has been chosen for them. And for me... She wasn't it. She is married now. Six months after we ended she took the long walk up the altar to spend her life, the life we had planned, together with someone else. And while I will never denigrate her nuptials, I wish to point out that our ending was not from any loss of love, but a difference of opinion on when we should be married. I felt it was better to wait until a time when I had got some money and when my family could attend. She didn't. And that is fine. She found that one person that was meant for her. At least for now.

So, in closing, I have ended it now. The need to bludgeon myself is over and all final feelings I have towards her are out and gone. If you have read this and see any of yourself in this, do what you feel is best. But my catharsis has come and I have made amends with myself, the only one to whom I hadn't yet.

So my fellow researchers, Godspeed and I look forward to hearing about your further adventures.

Aaron O'Keefe

23.08.01. Front Page

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