Emily's Diary: Confessions of an Emotional Predator
Page 4
Ah, another happy ending in the wonderful world of literary romance.
Well I'm sorry to disappoint you Dear Diary, but the 3rd act never happened. I made it up.
I had played out this scenario over and over in my head, hoping beyond hope that someday Riley would magically find his way into one of these snobbish soirees. Once there I imagined him finally transcending his indecisiveness and riding to my rescue as my knight in shining armor. But alas, it was not to be.
The truth is that today was the first time I had seen Riley in three months. As the fates would have it, it would also be the last time I will ever see him again. Riley was buried this morning.
I arrived home a couple hours ago and still have on my black funeral garb. I started writing the moment I walked thru the door and haven't been able to stop. I guess it's my version of crying.
It was Gloria who discovered the body and it was Gloria who had called me. She was still somewhat hysterical as she described finding Riley hanging from the living room chandelier, a mangy old dog leash wrapped around his neck.
I know what you're thinking, Dear Diary, that Riley is just the latest victim of my internal battle between head and heart. But I take no blame for Riley's death. He had died long before he ever met me. Maybe deep down he had imagined that leash as a lifeline of sorts, with me at the other end pulling him up out of the miserable pit into which he had allowed life to shove him.
Did he act with this symbolism in mind, or in his final agonizing moments was that leash just the first convenient item he found which served his purpose? Who can know for sure, but for the sake of romance I'd like to believe that he did.
While I take no blame, I can’t help but feel an overpowering sense of sadness and loss, not only for him, but for myself as well. Riley saw something inside my being that no one else had been even remotely aware of, including me.
Reminiscent of him first exploring his grandmother’s old Victorian house so many years ago, he was able to see beneath my tattered and tarnished veneer and into my soul. And the remarkable thing to me is he apparently found something of value there to love. I have absolutely no idea what that something was, but maybe someday I’ll discover it myself.
Good-bye Riley. I will never forget you.
Ironically, as a result of Riley's death I was given my final two lessons in the Christopher school of emotional detachment. The first was expected, the second was not.
Knowing that I was looking for support when I first told him of Riley's fate, the most Christopher could muster up was a weak "pity". It was at this moment that I realized, or thought I realized, the extent of Christopher's dispassionate nature.
But the final blow, and possibly my greatest lesson of all, occurred yesterday when I informed Christopher that I would not be seeing him again. I told him I had learned all I could from him and that any further contact was a waste of time for both of us.
With all the time we had spent together the last few months, and with the relationship we seemed to have developed, I had expected from him at least some feigned emotional reaction and possibly even a pleading of sorts for me to reconsider.
But in glorious Christopher fashion he just shrugged his shoulders, bowed gracefully, and walked out the door. He didn't even turn to blow me a kiss. I cursed myself for expecting more, but realized upon further contemplation that he had only been giving me my final exam. I am now him…or at least a clever forgery.
So Dear Diary, I suppose you’re wondering if this puts an end to my romantic adventures and my hopes of someday finding my consummate man. Regretfully I am presently unequipped to answer that question.
Before Riley I would have answered with an unequivocal YES. The Christopher side of my personality would have rationalized that even if at some future date I once again allowed romance to intrude into my world, I would now be that much more certain of the outcome, taking away all the mystery, intrigue and excitement of any new involvement.
It would then lament sardonically that therein lays the cruelty of life. That when one finally achieves total knowledge of one's self and of one's nature, one would think that life would have on hand some great and wondrous prize to remunerate the doer. Instead all one is rewarded with is a stale and placid existence, filled with uninspiring plot lines and redundant finales. Some prize!
It would then finish its argument by saying that regardless of what anyone else may think that I stand before the world today as a conqueror. It would proudly state that I have conquered the uncontrollable tremors of my treacherous heart, and that I listen now only to the sensible voice of reason and follow diligently only the sage advice of my intellect.
But my Riley side, my heart side, now sees a glimmer of hope that my romantic future may not be as bleak or dire as I’ve imagined, and that maybe someday I will have my happy ending after all.
And while I’m still but a 3rd party to this on-going battle between head and heart, Dear Diary, I may have changed sides for which one I’m rooting for.
End of Book 1
Emily’s Diary Series
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About the Author:
David Curtis is an author and a professional dating/relationship coach for women and men. You can read his dating articles and learn how to receive his professional dating coach advice at https://lovecoachadvice.com/ for women and https://datingcoachadvice.net/ for men.