"James sent pics of this poor girl to at least 3 dozen people..."

23 Mar
Nadia Naffe @NadiaNaffe
Not only does O'keefe think he's entitled to sex, he secretly filmed his ex ████ stripteasing, then emailed pics to buddies @OwainCunedda

...

23 Mar
Nadia Naffe @NadiaNaffe
James sent pics of this poor girl to at least 3 dozen people, bragged abt her oral abilities @carrieslight @electmarcorubio @keitholbermann

Before and After

A Man and his Girl



A Letter Never Sent


I've realized the world is filled mostly with little girls and little boys really; children.

First there are the little boys.
These “dicks” are unpredictable, of course, perhaps air the girls’ laundry, make fun of their stomach, shoes, nose, or ass in a bar so that the girls feel challenged, i.e. believe they now have to “earn” his gaze by “working out” or losing weight, then want this guy as a result – these girls get highs of these cheap thrills, but the highs don’t last very long. The sexual and superficial gratifications with the “challenge” and “unpredictability” last as short as minutes and at most 5 years. But invariably, they go away. Guaranteed. And with that departure, the little boys and little girls hurry with restless urge from one passion to the next. One fuck to another. Girls get jealous and cry about the boys they lost. Little do they know, they cry out of envy and jealousy, not love.

These are the little girls.
Little girls want a guy who will cheat, challenge, and abuse them. Little girls want dick and negligence. Little girls stare at themselves in the mirror for a boy’s approval. They only want what they can’t have. It's not that they don't want marriage with children. It's that they can't handle something so powerful and mature. This is the type of girl you are, a child, no different than the majority, who thinks the aforementioned attributes of “little boys” represents “love.” Even worse than the boys, little girls like you are also hurry from passion to passion, mistaking these temporary passions for “love.” For example, you just leapt out of a four year relationship just like that after making incredible promises; you just gave up so quickly - you'll do the same thing with him, guaranteed. Little girls also get off using one person as a crutch, like you did with me, finding someone else, and then they, you, "take a break" to figure out if it's a good thing to leave me.
They like you, use people.

Then there are the real men.
Real men know what love is.
And love has nothing to do with attraction or repulsion, passion or excitement, adventure or challenge. Those things feel good but are not the best of things, because we don’t spend our lives with those things. We couldn’t. After all, nobody spends 80 years with that giddy, dainty lustful feeling, and rightfully so. It’s not possible to be attracted to the same person for a lifetime without hard work. Love is about commitment – I speak of the type of thing most children like you – can’t handle – or may ever be able to handle.

You left me for a little boy. A little boy who went after a girl who already had a boyfriend. He knew this yet he persisted and persisted, and you turned into a little girl; you acquiesced.

So let me tell you about a real man….

A real man, on the train with his woman, before he leaves for college, kisses the warm tears rolling down her cheek, comforts her in the street when you collapse, missing him, and when you’re all alone in the world, have no friends, nobody understands you, your parents emotionally abuse you, a real man listens and supports you, even when it discomforts him to do so – at one point he calls up your parents and pleads with them – he fights his ass off for you, takes trains home on weekday nights for you after knowing you suffer without him. He deals with your screwed up family, your suicidal mother, seeks approval of your French father all the while getting screamed at – why - because he knows that deep down in places you don’t admit about, but can see it in the way you react in your eyes, his father’s approval makes you proud. He does this because he’ll do anything to make you happy – he cares, a trait not often exhibited by little boys. A real man will walk, crawl through a blizzard, on a weekend during his freshman year in college while his peers are far, far away getting drunk every night and having sex with random girls – he’ll brave his biggest fear; high school nostalgia, by dropping off a valentine day card on your high school locker – while other boys are in other states chasing after a future life, dumping their high school sweethearts, he stayed home for you, didn’t leave for a scholarship in Texas, he dumped all that just for you, not that he regretted it or made you feel bad for it. He didn’t join a fraternity because you didn’t want him too. Sure the whole future world may teach him it was futile, but that doesn’t matter right then. Nor does it not matter that the relationship wasn’t perfect. It’s the principal, something only men have. He’s too good of a guy. Unlike others, he doesn’t need perfection, he’s content with what he has.

A real man hitchhikes hundred miles after getting in a car accident, abandoning his classic car on the turnpike, just so he can be there for the end of your mother’s funeral. He prays every night on the beach that summer, to the stars, that he can ease the suffering and the pain that you feel, end the helplessness that pervades ever phone call he has with you. He waits silently on the other end of the line for the woman you’re becoming – even in the darkest of times, he stares up at a poster of France and dreams he will one day be there with you, even though he hates France he loves you. Sits in the stairwell and comforts you when everyone else is out partying, not because he is “attracted” to you or is “passionate” about you, but because he cares about you and he cares so deeply about your feelings. He dreams of the woman you will become, and uses those dreams to get through the hard times. A real man rents a car and drives 600 miles, on impulse, through three different countries, just to see your face. Then he in trembling desperation tells you his feelings when you claim to be in love with someone else, only to be scoffed at over and over. He makes mistakes – say taking what he had for granted because he is genuine and real. But he has nothing to apologize for. He sang for you when you were sad, wrote you letters when you were lonely, gave you massages and expected nothing in return. He taught you to drive stick shift, bought you your first car because he knew you like that type of car even though you screamed at him when it broke down, he even tried to fix it; he taught you how to kiss, introduced half of the feelings you feel, gave you a new life, and taught you everything you know about music. He helped you grow up.

During collge, little girls, sluts, confront your man and tease him or tempt him, once going into his dorm room and taking off their clothes, one even offers to have sex with him, he never, NEVER acts on these sluts. This is far more incredible given he may be attracted to them, because he is human, but he doesn’t LOVE them, a mistake you make. For, you seem to think it is wierd for someone in a relationship to, once in a while, dream or fantasize about someone else ? Imagining yourself in an intimate situation with someone other than your partner is normal-and then some. If you don't understand this fact about human nature, you will keep divorcing your husband because you mistake ATTRACTION FOR LOVE. Childish jealous little girls and sluts get off challenging his loyalty - they wants a real man but for the wrong reasons - they want to see if she can tempt him away from you, these girls. But his commitment and service to you outweighs childish sexual fantasies. All around him his friends cheat on their girlfriends, then the cheaters tell the girls they love each other on the phone. He witnesses this, it’s all around him, he’s like an anthropologist, witnessing horrifying things. His peers tell him to dump you, forget about you. The majority of boys, under those constraints, stray, mostly in secrecy but a real man doesn’t Never. Not once. And you know what’s incredible. A real man suppressed his urges and instincts for a love he may not entirely grasp or understand. But he has faith that he one day will. He does this for love. That’s power.

That is confidence.

So that is why I spent about 20 minutes every morning for seven months crying my eyes and heart out after being abandoned by the girl I served for a scumbag. It is so unjust that you look at me as week or insufficient due to this, it is not because I am just overly nice or overly weak, but because I am strong and so confident and committed, losing you was like a death, but even more so when you were lost not only in flesh but in spirit. When you leave your man, he stays against all wits, he fights the urge to leave completely, he comforts you when you talk about your new guy, he listens when you tell him the new guy makes fun of your for the way you look and may drive you into an eating disorder.

Then your stepmother, a woman I fought so hard to make happy, a woman whose wedding I attended says “abandon him when the dog dies, cuts ties with him after your dog he’s taking care of dies” That is when he’s just about had enough.
You proclaim “I love Jason. Jason and I are doing great!!” This is why he cries and starts to lose hope. Not that you would understand. Not that you could understand. You're just a child.

Because Jason cheated on you multiple times, or did you ever tell your family that while they were telling you to cut ties with me forever (after your dog dies of course). Did you tell her that after he cheated on you you went and had sex with him again? Or did you neglect to mention that part. And how DARE you tell me the sexual details of your relationship with this ass hole ; what incentive do I have or did I ever have to hear about your sexual positions with these guys, your swallowing whatever, about your "skillz."

But there is hope for me. A grown woman wants a real man. And there are thousands and thousands and thousand of women, mature women, beautiful women, who want a man like that, someone who will take care of them, someone who they can trust no matter what happens – these women, like the real man, are a rarity, but they are there and usually find each other, they are far more lovely than the little girls – and when these people meet, they’re relationship surpasses attraction, these people become soul mates and stay through sickness and in health – good times and bad. This is the type of relationship we had. You followed my lead, but now your following the lead of your slutty, drunk, childish girlfriends.

Your peers have influenced you in the worst way, and what was once a special soul, a beautiful human being inside and out, delicate but strong, has become nothing but dirty laundry. Now instead of selflessness its lust, “hey babe, hey hun, chill out, peace out, hey dudes" etc., etc., and all the other "chill" shit Jason taught you, I fought for 4 years to help you but a guy who abuses you and cheats on you teaches you more. Now I don't see anything beyond your "chillness", and nobody else wants to because the only reason they hang out with you is because of THE WAY THAT YOU LOOK. All the compliments, the obsession with your appearance, the belly ring, the crying to me about Jason pressuring you about your flabby stomach; you're right you've changed, changed for the worse, and you want someone to appreciate you for the wrong qualities apparently, started blending in with the scene I described, the outside. You were once altruistic, devoted your time to soup kitchens, alleviating others suffering, listening, volunteering your compassion and understanding, even if it was just to make people smile... Life was a “bowl of cherries,” you had a pair of green pants with a few stains. Now you’ve got a whole wardrobe of pick ups and hand me downs and innuendo flirtations, all about you appearances, and your bambina bullshit.

You child.

You find more amazement in learning about marijuana than you do about significant, noble things. You left a creative sensitive compassionate guy – you left him for a boy that can kick a ball into a net. You have become more impressed with a soccer jock who needs you to correct his English papers, remember, he’s “only smart matched with you.”

So you can go off and see for yourself the difference I speak of. You can go and get your heart broken the way I have. Dump him for someone else or he’ll dump you for someone else. Either way, learn the heard way, and chase after the guys who "challenge" you. Like a feather in the wind, that’s the way attraction works. Do you understand?

I’m tired of crying, suffering, wondering, and hoping for your sake. That’s the real type of fighting – the type of dedication and soulful redemption we seek in the deepest of places. No words of mine could ever supplant your understanding. They are unnoticed, unrewarded, even scoffed at by you. You laugh but mostly ignore – take it as a plead, not a truth. Your eyes glaze over, wisp away on your train of content that you have “a friend” in me and a “lover” in him, both misconceptions, especially the later. You tell your “girliez” you are my friend like it’s a goddamn prize in a popularity contest. And the paradox becomes how to communicate with you on why I cannot be friends with you. Again words, thoughts emotions, song, poetry are all fruitless to you. You only respond to jealousy, an emotion you have nearly forced me to succumb to, and I can not in good conscious spend my time making you jealous or being jealous, a decent human being does not live in envy. And that is why it hurts, that is why I can’t be your “friend.” That is why I don’t know what to say on the phone when you want to be friends.

Think about it, if you’re even capable.

You are drifting into a different life, a 5 year long phase of emptiness and immaturity, you abandon your past self and the real man who “reminds you of your dead mother.” Never mind I cradled you in my arms and comforted you when it happened, when others told me to leave, no, when they weren’t even there, Including your father and stepmother who told you to get over her death. Tell me, where were the jocks when she died. Where were your girliez. Where was everyone. Even your grandparents were gone. Never mind your father called me up crying asking for advice as to what to do when she died. Nevermind I helped you blow out the birthday candles on your cake, and covered you in the rain, I fought to bring down the walls, every day of my life for nearly 4 years, the walls you proudly proclaim are tumbling because some jockcock has challenged you. You listened to your 700 online acquaintances when they told you to dump me and fuck me over. What in God's name did I ever do to you or them to deserve such a verdict.

So much for faith, so much for self-reliance, so much for “love,” so much for strength.

I’m too young, I’m too passionate, too healthy, but I’m too tired, goddamn tired of girls like you and your fucking games and formulas, as an old friend recently told me, why go though it? To get a girl like you again? It is no longer worth it to even try to make you understand. Worn on the outside like a snake skin, I need to shed, not change. Rebirth in journey, not in spirit. You need to make deeper changes, unfortunately. You were abused as a child – you will carry around that baggage your whole life. And I was willing to work with you through the long run, help you and support you in every way I and only I can. But enough about you. This time I’ll do it this time for myself. I trusted you, fought for you, and thought that we could date others, but keep that special bond, nothing else would compare. We would always love each other. But then you told me you “don’t love me anymore.” I realized you’re not capable of loving. My “not knowing who I am” was a false confession brought on by your psychological manipulations and my heartbreak. But it is all over now. I know exactly who I am.

It’s done. There’s nothing to reflect about – especially in regard to you.

I am damn proud of who I am and what I believe in. The fact that no one will convince me otherwise is a testament to my strength, confidence and security, the type of things that blow away in a stiff wind with the tempting whispers around your little-girl ears.

So you can go on and say you “love” Jason, and tell yourself that you “don’t love “James” anymore to your family. They’re all screwed up anyways. Your mother, god bless her soul in heaven looks down on us and knows differently. She knows how many girls Jason has had sexual relations with, how he cheats on you, how he spent a year of his life, persisting and persisting and persisting, while he knew we were together, knowing we loved each other, he kept on persisting at you using his little boy tactics, and as soon as you had sex with him, he started cheating on you. Isn’t that textbook. You are too stupid to see that. So you went ahead and cheated on him, but worst of all, you now say that you love him now more than you loved me. No words can mine can describe how wrong you are and how sad that makes me. But it is all over. No more conversation, no more slutty teasing, your games with me are over. It is all over now.

And you know what, I have never touched another girl in my life, I have kissed one girl once this past December. All the others were lies, fruitless, lies, Amsterdam, lies, Juliet, like the song was a lie, because I care about you so much, but I’m tired of the games and jealousy. It’s not who I am. I can't play danger, I need a sensitive compassionate woman who will appreciate for who I am, and you can't do that, Time will heal my heart but teach you that behind words are meanings, and like all the other little girls in the world, by the time you grow up, all the real men the best of them, will be all taken by girls who grew up before you did.

So you can go fuck your jockcock "boyfriend" for all I care. You know what, for the first time, I don’t give a shit. Go rent your apartment in Venice this week and fuck him long and fuck him good. Betray your father and move to Ohio! I want you to give everything up for him, break every rule, change everything about yourself. That way, when he breaks your heart you will burn and go through the same miserable catharsis you have forced me to go through. You’re his flavor of the year. He's slept with over a dozen girls, he's said "I love you" to each and every one of them... You're just a footnote in his life. So you can sculpt your body tighter and tighter, sclupt away, go running and pierce all parts of your body and spend 3 hours a day straightening your hair and doing your makeup for him there is bound to be another body out there for him. Did you honestly think that you were the one? Do you honestly think lucky #14 is going to be the one? There are bound to prettier girls and one day, a beautiful woman, inside and out, for him when he changes his ways, in very long run, women will even compete for him. Keep blocking me from facebook, but remember to keep sending me those giggity emails, I’m just a tally to your list, another faceless name, so keep sending me your travel email updates with your bubbly, fake sentences detailing how wonderful your new life is and how much you hated the girl you were. We’ll see how long that lasts....

* * *

When you were 15 years old and I was 17, we went deep into the park and into the woods and I inscribed our names on the log and gave you that promise ring. I taught you something special. We taugh each other something very special, commitment, precious tears of innocense and youth, and unbound faith and trust in each of our young hearts for better or for worse. And there were no games or corruption or the festered need to impress anyone or portray ourselves happier that we were. It was just that moment and it continued for years. You learned that there was hope in the world beyond the abuse in your household and that hope made you strong. Now I teach you somethign else... one day, 5 months, 1 year, 3 years, 5 years, you will change for the better, you'll grow up, revert to your pure, past self, and realize the world is filled with nothing but trash and dirty laundry. Scumbag asshole jocks are a dime a dozen. You'll realize that love is the stuff that keeps people together through the hardest of times when attraction and passion are nowhere. When you're week and scared and helpless love will keep you strong, the type of love that isn't just muttered at a height of an orgasm. You'll realize the jocks you dated just used you as arm candy, nothing more, nothing less. And they'll laugh at you or ignore you when you cry... and you will grow out of your phase, your childish curiosities and temptations will expire, memories will haunt you, ironically you're dog will have died but you'll return, dirtied up, using me as your crutch, you'll 'a come knocking at my door. You'll love the innocent, caring, passionate women you were when you were 15. The makeup will wear off and the ditry sex will lose its value. You'll realize the world can sometimes be a dark and lonely place. That there are few men willing to guide you and lead you and protect you out of those woods and into a fulfilling, happy and successful life. And when you realize this, you will be wise.
I’m the one's that sorry now.
Because when you get there, I'll be gone.

You swallow that a while, █████.

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

They Can't Take that Away from Me
Four years ago exactly this past Tuesday the 14th, when I was 17 years old and a senior in high school, I put on Calvin Klein Cologne, apricot chapstick I bought from Walgreens, and lit a cranberry candle in the morning at about 5:30 AM. I drove to school in my spitfire, top down, and into the parking lot at 6:30 Am. I took the single yellow rose I bought the night previous and went into the high school cafeteria and hid it behind one of the chairs. I sat and waited until the Mr. D█████ dropped off her daughter in that scary looking oldsmobile, and I ran into the bathroom across from her locker. When she came out I confronted her, and told I her I had something to show her in the cafeteria. I went with her into the cafeteria and gave her the rose. I asked her to be my girlfriend. It was Valentines’s Day 2002. That night, and later than month, I lit that candle every day, I put on that chapstick and used that cologne, even for the night of my part as lead in the high school musical in March. I danced and sang and acted song after song after scene after scene, and in-between scenes of the final amazing performance I hooked up with the girl that said yes back stage. (It was my first kiss). I knew nothing about the world, I knew no politics, I wasn’t as intelligent or as worldly or as experienced or as strong as I am now. I lived in the protective bubble that was high school suburbia, ate the chicken and potatoes my mother made me each night before she tucked me in, and borrowed 7 dollars from my father to go see a movie with my friends.

But God did it feel good. I had the girl in my arms giving me my first kiss, I had an audience of 1000 people behind the curtain waiting to hear me sing, and the classic sports car in the parking with a rebuilt engine, waiting to take me to the cast party in all of its glory. The college applications were out the door. Prom and a summer of fun were ahead. Everything was in order. All my silly teenage dreams had come true.

Fast forward past college: I left for Switzerland last month, I grabbed the bag in the corner of my closet with some chapstick and cologne in it, not realizing or caring or thinking about the significance of the aromas inside, just seeing that it was chapstick and I’ll need chapstick when I’m skiing in the alps, and I’ve run out of cologne at Rutgers, I grabbed it and stuffed it in my suitcase. Wouldn’t ya know, that cranberry candle was in it too.

4 years, 4 days and 21 hours after I religiously used those items, in the privacy of my apartment 3,000 miles away, and even father in spirit from that high school journey, I just felt it all over again. I lit that candle and Like a tidal wave, I heard the audience clapping, my grandfather in the audience shouting my name in pride, I felt the innocent 15 year old girl melt in my arms, her curly hair dangling from her head, staring up at me in awe, and all we had to do was smile at each other to be happy, we were so dumb and naïve, but it felt so good. I remember the night in the spitfire in Ridgewood, I remember my room completely dark with that candle the night before prom, it all comes back to you like a tidal wave, like a time capsule, and what through the years was nostaligia, then depression because you missed it so bad, then forgetting about it and making better or different memories in college; now just smiling – just peace.

We live in a cynical world now, where the hell do I start. Jealousy, Girls are nothing like their 15 year old counterparts, instead of 7 dollars for a movie I think about paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for grad school….

Is ignorance bliss, do looks and status and intelligence really matter. Because there was nothing rational about that feeling – it was just awesome, and we really do get caught up in a race of feelings and desires we can’t possible win.

The smell of the cologne, chapstick and candle gave me pause, as it should. I debated on whether or not to contact that girl Tuesday, it was quite the calculus and I thought of ranting about things that piss me off, but I felt this was more fitting on that anniversary – in short that girl doesn’t think of anything of February 14th anymore - her eyes have glazed over since, her head doesn’t dangle in awe up at me anymore, her hair isn’t as curly anymore. And in too much complexity and emotion to describe succinctly, she left me for another man. Maybe the cynical world got to her, maybe I became cynical.. The reasons are petty. In my heart I’ll never forget her and the way we were, and when I’m married with someone else I’d say the exact same thing. And in my heart, on the 14th, I knew what I would say if I did contact her, I would recite the lines from my solo in that musical four years ago. There she was, a member of the chorus in the wings of the theater melting as she watched me sing the classical lines to my lead counterpart, lines I couldn’t possible understand until having lived through them.

“The Way you Hold your Hat
The way you sip your Tea
The memory of all that
No, no they can’t take that away from me
The way your smile just beams
The way you sing of key
The way you haunt my dreams
No no they can’t take that away from Me
We may never never meet again on that bumpy road to love
Still I’ll always always keep the memory of
The way you hold your knife
The way we danced til three
The way you changed my life
No, no they can’t take that away from me
No, they can’t take that away from me…”

I guess it’s an analogy for all of life. There I was, a 17 year old dumb and naïve teenager, oh so happy, singing those incredibly, simple, sad and excruciatingly lovely lines about loss, as good as an actor as I think I was, I had no idea what they meant until now. And there is the scent of the chapstick bringing the memory of being on stage back. All the memories and people and moments blend together, and I begin to understand what time means. As I look over those lines and how their meaning has changed a tear comes to my eye…

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.

Illiteracy Count: 22

1. spitfire
2. 6:30 Am
3. the Mr. D█████
4. Mr. D█████ dropped off her daughter
5. Valentines's
6. oldsmobile
7. later than month
8. . (It was my first kiss).
9. car in the parking with
10. and Like a tidal wave
11. spitfire
12. I remember my room... [Badly constructed run-on sentence]
13. nostaligia
14. We live in a cynical world now, where the hell do I start.
15. Jealousy, Girls are [Also just a badly constructed sentence]
16. Is ignorance bliss, do looks... [Question mark?]
17. can't possible win
18. became cynical.. [Period or ellipsis?]
19. couldn't possible understand
20. way you sing of key
21. those incredibly, simple,
22. about loss, as good an actor [Period after "loss", new sentence, capital letter]

Con ███████

I visited ███████ in Siena last Sunday, the girl I was dating for 3 - 4ish years, and who I am still in love with. We started going out on Valentines Day, 2002. I rented a smartcar from Lugano and drove 6 hours south from the alps all the way into the heart of Tuscany. Through winding roads, into tunnels, in the pitch black dark, with crazy Italian drivers whizzing by my at 120 kmh. My smartcar was so small that when I passed or was passed the thing LITERALLY almost blew over. It was scary as hell. I trembled at the wheel, tightended my arms and bit my lip for 400 miles. My vision was not so much blurred as my emotions. It was surreal driving through a foreign country with signs and customs I wasn't aquaitned with, with a manic obession running through my mind to find the girl I love. Love can make you to desperate and crazy things; lift cars and swim across oceans. I believe there are angels watching over me, as I didn't make one wrong turn. Statistical probablity would almost gurantee I would have, since I guessed at about a dozen major intersections. Navigate your way half way through a country in the middle of the night without any currency or knowledge of its language. It took me an hour to figure out how to pump gas. I ran to the nearest ATM, asking italians at McDonalds "Parla Inglese?!" (that's the formal conjugation of "speak."). The sight of a lost and incredibly (rare) American half way inbetween piza and Siena wearing a blue "Italia" tourist shirt in the middle of Tuscany/Nowhere at a McDonalds was enough irony to make Jonathan Swift turn in his grave. I actually ordered a cheesburger from MacDonalds (a regular cheesburger for a 'whopping' 3 us dollars) in American English as I was asking for Directions, and the whole scene made the cashier swell up with pride. (it's kinda like us working at taco bell and geting to practice our spanish by understanding the mexican when he states "Quiero la salsa con mi Taco."

The rub is ███████, although willing to talk and see me, is "not in love" with me anymore. She "Does not find me physically attractive" and "feels uncomfortable" when I call her often or tell her I love her. She "is in love" with another guy who goes to the University of Mass, and who is originally from Ohio, named Jason S████████. When ███████ first got to Umass, the boy had his eye on her, and persisted and persited and persisted ad infinitum, Iming her and emailing her, and inviting her to parties. This was September of 2004, about a year and a half ago. Christmas came, ███████ started feeling different, less strong towards me, I was taking her for granted no doubt, and I assume ███████ was begining to ask some major questions about everything. She wanted to "take a break" in March. I was so busy with my work and the Centurion I really didn't care that much back then. The more distant she became the more attractive to me she became - (And I though she would always be mine). I had once dreamed that she would tease other guys. It turned me on. Then Two weeks later when I called her she admitted she had "slept over" Jason's. From that moment in late March, the jealousy and anguish and pain I have felt in my heart has persisted, weathering me in ways I am so sick of and tired of and teaching me the value of treating a girl right and never letting her go.

But this past summer in DC was fun. Although, we "broke up", I suppose, in May (neither of us had ever done it before so we didn't know what it entailed) we did everything we used to do over the summer, because we were together always. She even visited me down there and we had wine at an Italian restaurant; one of my favorite memories of our relationship. Now I would hope what I am about to say isn't as truley as significant as she made it out to be. She left for France this summer for a month and that is truely when the fulcrom tipped; half-way through france I sent her a poscard, somewhat playfully telling her about the girls I am meeting in DC. She sent me an email I responded to late and told my mother I was ignoring her. She then came to some epiphany in France and when she got back called me immediately. From that moment on things changed indefinitely. From that phone call. I responded "Hi" and acted disinterested, because it was just a moment and I wasn't thinking. She reacted to that and acted disinterested. I told her, because of my silly and stupid attraction to a cute girl at work, that it was OK, I'm kinda interested in someone else. From her end was an all-out bombshell: "I'm Dating someone and am visiting him in Ohio next week."

We had planned to spend a week in DC together, that turned into two days, which turned into a night, well, two hours. And the sexual tension of us being together as "Friends" eventually made her kiss me, yes, while she was "dating" Jason, who... she hadn't even seen yet. I later understood that when I acted disinterested and distant it would turn ███████ on, even while she was with Jason. I'm not so sure if I can pretend that hard or if it's even possible anymore.

When ███████ left for Umass, she kissed me on the lips, told me she loved me, and said she'd see me when we're married 5 years from now. How words so lovely could be so cruel. For I would not see ███████ for another 5 months. I could write a book about the pain and agony during those 5 months, it strangled me and prevented me from doing well academically, it brought me into a miniature depression.

Before I continue the story, let me explain that ███████ needs to be in a commited relationship at all times, with someone. She cannot be alone or looking around. This is part of her mentality and physchology. She used to give a lot, but being a cute girl (and a hot girl when she gets ready to go out to party) in College now, everybody is all over her, and she has started taking; compliments, gifts, "I <3 you!"s guys and girls and 500 friends all over her, wanting her for various reasons. She never had that before. All she had was me, an old fashioned guy with an old fashioned way of doing business and romance. A 21 year old soccer player swooper her off her feet, and seeing him and hooking up with him almost every day, she gave into the temptation, and slept with him, in ya know, that way.

From what I gathered, Jason was not going out with ███████. ███████ wanted to "be in a relationship" with him, but he kept saying no. ███████ didn't like this, because it wasn't the safety and security she needed so desperately. And in early November, after ███████ got done ahving sex with him, another girl called her up and told her that she was hooking up with Jason, as well were a few other girls. BOMBSHELL

███████ cried for days, weeks, ripped up his gifts, cursed him off and joined and online "Jason-HATING" club on facebook (no joke!) Jason wouldn't attempt to contact ███████ but she, so jealous, wouldn't give in. I, looking at her facebook everyday, would monitor her hatred of Jason and her friends reassuring her. 

On that I danced around my room listening to "innocent man" by billy joel, feeling a sense of redemption since I had went out on a "date" (maybe I'm a little hopeful calling tea a date, but I said I'm old-fashioned) with a girl who I thought was cute - meanwhile ███████ was getting "fucked over" by the jock cock she dumped me over. It wouldn't be long before ███████ contacted me with an apology. She did contact me very soon, but what she said I'll never forget

November 11th: "James, it's been a while since we've talked, I just want to tell you Goodbye since I'm goign to Italy" Are you Kidding me ███████?! Goodbye?! How could you??????? You're not leaving for another two months, and I'm going to Europe also!!! And that's after Christmas vacation... and you just got cheated on!!! I never cheated on you, ever! How could you say this.

I was so angry by what she said that I responded with the following statement:

So cruel... so so cruel. You IM me tonight to make you feel better about yourself, "I'm not a cold-hearted bitch?" you ask. You remove youself from my facebook wall, you tell me you won't talk to me because "you're going to Europe." You don't even talk to me now!! Do you realize how much you've hurt me? You can't say anything nice! You expect me to make you feel better about yourself and reasure you?! I just saw on on your profile you were fucked over by Jason S████████. He played you like a piano. YOu left me for a fucking scumbag who cheats on you and fucks other girls, and your poor little heart is broken. Your broke the heart of a caring, charismatic, sensitive loyal boyfriend for a fucking scumbag. Now your dirtied up. How does it feel ███████? I think I'm worth more than that, in fact I know I am, and I'm know other girls know I am as well. So no, I don't want to be friends with you, until you look into my eyes and give me the most sincere apology of your life. Until then, leave me alone.

Well the ███████ who can't be alone was alone at that point, I'm guessing more alone that she'd ever been. ███████ waited around for my phone call that week. And now I know she missed me that week. And I knew there was a good chance she would have taken me back that day if I had just drove up there to see her or told her I missed her. But a man's pride can not allow him take a girl back after she dumped him for another girl. God did I think about her all the time. Every single day I thought that ignoring her would get her back.

███████ could not stand to be alone, and there as persistent Jason sitting outside her door for days, waiting for her to open up. So alone and so confused, ███████ poured out to Jason who just listened and listened - just after I took the LSATS on Dec 3rd ███████ was "in a realtionship with Jason" on facebook, (that evil program).

I called her on christams, unable to take it anymore. She didn't call me back. I wrote her a song. She wrote me one sentence in the email, saying "it was nice." I wrote her a final email pouring out my heart. She said we shoudl meet.

We met the day before she left, and there was a lot of sexual tension. All the anger I felt for so long subsided because I truly still felt for her. I still wanted her, I did'nt care abouit that guy. We flirted alot. I acted disinterested like they tell you do. It drove her nuts. "Why aren't you going after me James? I'm a little surprised"

███████ in her car, told me to hug her, I went in and she kissed me. It felt like heaven but violated every cardinal rule. Sometimes I think it would have helped not to, but ███████ is the type of girl who needs to know the truth and not play games. What happend after felt good for the both of us, and she said, "We still have it." She vowed to see me in Europe. She drove away in her car, just like she had done to me back in August.

I wasn't going to let history repeat itself.

Then she left, I called her my first week here, and her mood changed. What happend was just a moment and she was is in love with Jason. I acted desperate and whiny and she became far more removed. We started emailing. I called her almost every day keeping in touch telling her my feelings, she would treat me like a friend, I guess, no emotion. Finally I just broke down and with trembling desperation told her I will leave her alone but I will always love her.

She called me back an hour later!, but alas, it was only about some message a girl sent her. Why do I still feel so strongly about ███████, when she continues to piss me off, react like a child to such powerful emotion. There is no reason to love, and that is why I drove down to see her

* * * * *

We had a good time in Siena, stayed up all night talking, walked around, took photos together. It was like what we always did. Like nothing had changed. There was no intimacy in our relationship in public anyways. And for those hours, nothing did. But now, I'm still hurt, and I still think about her and Jason. She told me alot about him and her that day, and it hurt alot. 

I'm surprised she wants to go to Amsterdam with me next weekend, and couldn't be anymore excited. Everynight I go to bed I pray that I will meet someone fast and soon but still believe we will end up together in the end.

███████ wants to get married in only a few years, right out of college. She told me she will show the true woman she is to that one special guy, a woman she is gradually now becoming. ███████ is not the sex object she makes her self out to be in party pictures on facebook. She is an innocent flower, who can now truly share truths with herself. She can only share that special part of her with one other person. She was too young to give her soul to anyone while we were together. Now she is coming of age, and when she is 25, she will be the most beautiful thing on this earth.

But She is in love with someone else. And there's no getting passed that. That's the way it is. If I knew the answers in my heart; what to do, how to feel, that would be one thing, but's its forcing yourself to do the right thing as well - its not right to rent a car and drive 7 hours in the middle of the night. It's also not right for us not to date other people. I still have hopes and I still have dreams. 

I just wish ███████ loved me.

NJO: Originally posted on the blog Feathers of Steel at liberabit.blogspot.com.