Cheryl responded to the message I sent her, published in this blog. Here’s what she wrote:
Hi Dickie,
All of the photos are the real me--or not. I'm multi-faceted. Perhaps also uncapturable--even when caged.
Where did you get the impression that I hate goat's milk? I grew up on the stuff (sort of). Maybe you are mixing recollections of another gal.
I did think it odd that the one and only bird you were interested in observing was the Canada goose. I wouldn't call that botching per se, but I did come away overall with a bit of the feeling that our "energies" were not a good match. It's true my energies have been fluctuating a bit over the past several months, but while I do believe you are a decent and clever man, I haven't hit a point where I've thought we should repursue meeting. If by chance I came across you in the world, tho, I would approach and greet and chat. I wish you well.
Cheers,
Cheryl
Okay, first of all, let’s clear up a few facts. My memory borders on idiot savant. People who know me know that I remember EVERYTHING. I suspect it is a byproduct of whatever causes my learning disability.
Cheryl and I got on the subject of goat’s milk because I asked her about the farm she was raised on. I asked her specifically what farm animals there were. There were only chickens and goats. They milked the goats. I asked Cheryl specifically what it tasted like. She squirmed. She said it tastes like the stuff goats eat. I was not confusing her with another girl. She made it very clear to me that she didn’t like goat’s milk.
Now, regarding the bird watch I had suggested for our second date, it was technically an “aquatic” bird watch, though it was very clear that Canadian Geese would be looked for. I take exception to her statement that it was odd that I was looking for Canadian Geese. There’s nothing odd about this. This is a fascinating animal and they are in abundant supply. Canadian Geese seem to share many more similarities with us than most mammals. They don’t make nests. They have nuclear families. They are good parents. They congregate in large social groups where there is both a lot of conflict as well as a surprising amount of tolerance. There’s something very primordial and beautiful about these animals. I go to see these guys with my friend Renaissance Woman all the time. I don’t think I’m odd. I’m eccentric yes. Certainly Renaissance Woman is pretty cool. We just appreciate these animals because we are animal lovers. Certainly a zoologist like her can appreciate that. Cheryl had read my blog entry about my Canadian Goose watch on Fast Cupid. That’s one of the first things she talked about when we first exchanged e-mails. She specifically told me we could exchange Canadian Goose stories when we met on our first date, and that’s what we did. Perhaps the Canadian Goose watch wasn’t a good second date idea, but it was an extension of a thread from our previous encounters and that’s why I chose a Canadian Goose Watch.
Having cleared up all this facts, fuck her! I have absolutely no desire for her anymore. I don’t like fickle people. They burn me out emotionally and waste my fucking time. I don’t like people who put out mixed signals. If you have mixed feelings or you’re just not interested, don’t express your interest so earnestly. It’s just not cool to do this.
Frankly I was put off by the tone of her whole letter. What is this horseshit about “energies”? Is that like auras? What kind of 70’s hippie crap is that?
What I resented is this: “I haven't hit a point where I've thought we should repursue meeting.” I hate assholes who talk this way. Just fucking say you’re not interested. Why does she have to insult me with this excruciatingly sensitive language? This is a very nasty way of rejecting people, because some people would actually be waiting around hoping for the day where she hits the point where she’s going to “repursue”. I don’t know if people who talk like this realize this or not. In any case, it’s an asshole way to communicate.
And I hate how she says “Cheers” at the end. I hate Americans who try to affect (British) English ways of talking or writing. You come across as a real pompous asshole.
Also, I am not “clever.” I am not remotely clever. I am smart.
I don’t think Cheryl really means she would “approach and greet and chat” with me if she came across me in the world. This is part of the sugar coat. If I saw her I would pretend that I didn’t recognize her and B-line it for the nearest exit.
Fuck Cheryl. I mean, really, really fuck Cheryl. I’m forgetting her already. It was my loneliness and desperation that fueled my obsession over her. I see this now. Had I made money which would have enabled me to secure relationships with desirable women, Cheryl would have been no big deal. I would of ran from Cheryl at the first scent of her ambivalence, which I suspected very early on. I failed to trust my instincts. Desperation and madness ruled the day. These are powerful forces.
