maddie: second assignment

[maddie]

I've been having trouble sleeping lately. That's not unusual. I tend to have vivid dreams and they sometimes make sleeping through the night difficult. So I've learned to take naps in the middle of the day, when my body starts to struggle, yearning for more rest.

Lately, I've found my mind wandering far too often. It's hard to focus on work or my household chores. I tried to blame this on my sleep patterns, but I know that's a lie. I know it's because of him. I'm falling in love. I can't let myself do that. I can't keep wondering what he's doing, if he's happy. My incessant need to know as much about him, from his middle name to his favorite way to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon, must be pushed away and forgotten.

I want to know everything about him. I save all his e-mails and all the transcripts from our instant messaging chats, where we've flirted and joked and learned about each other. I still have that picture of him that he e-mailed to me one day. I stare at it, taking in those beautiful eyes and lips and, inevitably, find myself wondering what it'd be like to kiss him, to let him run his fingers through my hair, over my body.

My gaze falls to the ring finger on my left hand, where my wedding band hugs my finger. And the guilt washes over me. I know what I must do, There's no question in my mind, no matter how much I find him attractive, no matter how it makes me feel when he flirts with me. I close my eyes, bow my head a bit, and sit still at my desk for a few moments. Finally, I open my eyes and start typing.



My dear silly boy,

I want you to know that I don't blame you for what I'm
about to type. It's not your fault and I don't want you
to think that I am suggesting that it is, nor do
I want you to take on the blame. In fact, I absolutely
forbid it.

I like you. Far too much for my own good. If I weren't
married. . .well, there's no point in thinking about that.
I'm very happily married and, ever since I met you
and we started becoming friends, I've found myself
second-guessing things and I can't have that. I very
much want to be your friend, but I'm not sure I know
how to be friends with a guy I'm attracted to.

As I type, the tears begin to trickle down my face. Again, I close my eyes, trying to work up the courage I need to finish this task. Why does it have to hurt so much?

Frustrated, I push my chair back and storm off to the kitchen, searching in vain for something to give me more strength. I stare at the contents of the pantry, then the refrigerator, eventually slamming the door in frustration. I rest my head against the cool of the refrigerator door for a few moments, then return to my desk.

I can't help but be reminded of that scene in "When
Harry Met Sally", where Harry insists that men
and women can't be friends because of the sex.
I've never had a male friend that I found attractive
until now. I thought that I could flirt with you and not
have it mean anything, but I can't.

Please don't be mad at me. Please forgive me for this.
It's not your fault, it's mine, and it's not your problem,
it's mine. You have been so wonderful and I can't thank
you enough. You knew how far I could go and kept me
at that limit, no matter how often I practically begged
you to take me past that point. I can't thank you enough
for that. You truly are a special person.

The tears are running down my face now and I begin sobbing so hard I can't see the screen. I grab some tissues and wipe my eyes and nose. Still, the tears continue to flow.

I truly want to be your friend. I really do. I think you are
an incredible person and if I wasn't married. . . I can't
think that. I've thought it too often lately. I am married
and, until I met you, I didn't doubt my love. I can't risk
it for what might not be real.

I realize that I can't send that last part. After wiping away more tears, I erase the last sentence. I know it's unfair to suggest to him that he's trying to steal me away and I can't lay the burden of my wandering thoughts on him. I know that it's all my doing, that I'm the one who allowed myself to look at my husband and wonder if I made a mistake, something I wouldn't have dreamed of thinking before I met the other man.

The other man. Dear God. I have an "other man". How can this be? I'm a good person. At least, I try to be. As I weep quietly, I realize that I'm far deeper in this than I thought. I delete the entire last paragraph and begin again.

I think you are an incredible person. I truly hope that
I'll be able to be your friend and I hope that, even
after all this, you'll still consider me your friend.
I understand if you can't. But I can't keep flirting
with you and telling myself that it's all in fun. It was,
at first. But it's deeper than that now, for me,
and I have to back away.

Please don't think I'm trying to blame this on you.
Again, I forbid it. I know that you would
never do something to hurt another person.

I realize I'm starting to ramble. For the moment, the tears have stopped. I swallow hard, dry my face, and finish my e-mail.

I need to back away from this for a bit. I need to
get my head screwed on straight and
make sure my heart is firmly where it ought to be.

I start to type, "I don't want to hurt you," but realize that, while that's true, it'll sound bad. Like any of this is good.

Please forgive me for dumping all of this on you.
I'm sure you're surprised and I'm sorry. You are
special to me and I very much want to be friends
with you. I hope that we can still do that. I just
need a little space and some time right now.


I sign the e-mail, read through it quickly, then click "send" before I can lose my nerve. Deflated, emotionally spent, I sit at my computer for a few more minutes, then slowly push my chair back and stand. I walk to the bathroom, run some cold water and splash it on my face. I don't feel any better than I did before I started the e-mail. Instead of worrying about my husband, now I'm worried about him. I feel awful for placing such a burden on him.

Finally, I look at myself in the mirror. Gradually, a bit of the guilt that's been weighing me down fades. I leave the bathroom and crawl into bed, where I cry myself to sleep.

[Rabbit1]

Very good ----I liked it ----I think you are ready for level three ----are you ready?

[maddie]

Thank you, Rabbit! I believe I am ready.

[Polecat]

Oh yes you are!
That was excellent!

[maddie]

Thank you.

[TheKnothead]

maddie,
I thought I'd already commented on this and was surprised to see that I hadn't. After reading it again, I remembered why... it hits me too hard! ...puts me in a funk..

Very emotional and very well done!

(sorry for not commenting sooner)

TKH

[maddie]

Thanks, TKH! I appreciate your comments.

[cariad]

Oh maddie - what can I say other than you captured it perfectly.

cariad

[maddie]

Thanks, cariad! I've been finding myself gravitating toward this sort of style more often lately. Sort of stream-of-consciousness, but not completely. I kind of like it, but it's hard to sustain for very long.

[SheepishJaina]

my god maddie. I feel as though you've taken a page out of everything I'm going through. I litterally had to run for tissues at this point:

and if I wasn't married. . . I can't
think that. I've thought it too often lately. I am married
and, until I met you, I didn't doubt my love. I can't risk
it for what might not be real.

Thank You. Thank You Thank You Thank You.

[maddie]

Thanks, brattyone. I'm always flattered when people say they've had an emotional reaction to something I wrote.