I was going to meet Natassja at 8. She called me at a quarter after 6 to see if we could meet earlier. I said sure and I got to her at a quarter till 7. We left the restaurant at midnight.
I don’t know how many times while looking at her I tried not to stare at her features, how many times I thought to myself “wow, she is beautiful”. We talked and talked about an array of things. Somehow, at the beginning of the night, we got to my counseling sessions and she pressed me for information. She was very open and amazing and I told her a very small portion of it, my knight complex. She told me that I could ask her anything, but I couldn’t come up with any questions. I tried getting her to volunteer any ‘dirt’, but she wanted a question and I couldn’t come up with one.
To be honest, I didn’t want to know any dirt on her… I wanted to taste her lips. Holy cow how I wanted to kiss her. Damn damn damn damn damn damn. But I already confessed this to her a month ago and she wrote back saying that it caught her off guard and she was flattered and…. she handled it gracefully and without making me feel like an idiot. So yeah… there’s no way I’m making to kiss her now. It aint happening. But man… I can’t help thinking about it when I see her lips.
But the complex that I have… I don’t see a working through this with her. For a couple of hours she told me more of her history and I caught myself clenching fists, wanting to hug her, thinking that all that I’ve been through pales in comparisson to what she’s been through in life. I asked her, how in the world was she such a beautiful person after all that her life has has shown her. She understood it as a serious question and not a shallow flirt and said that she didn’t know… that she’s thought about this often herself. I am amazed and awed.
It is her birthday on Wednesday and I bought her some books. I bought her a copy of Shakespeare’s “The Tempest”, my favorite Shakespeare play, as well as Tom Robbins “Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates”, which my favorite of his, and a huge book, “The Complete Works of Shakespeare”. I am happy that I am able to give her a gift for her birthday and I hope she has a good time and is safe. I also caught myself hoping for her to be happy.
After I hugged her goodnight, in as brotherly of a hug as I could give, I walked the five blocks to my truck and kept seeing her face over and over again and thinking how beautiful she was. But not only physically beautiful, but a good person too, a beautiful heart, and I told her that such is rare and I could count on one hand the number of people doing what she is doing (following their dreams). I told her I wanted to put her down as my beneficiary on my SGLI. But as I walked to the truck and thought not only of her beauty, I thought of my complex and its relation to beauty. What did this beauty represent to me? What did it mean that I wanted to touch that beauty? Keeping in mind her past and my issues, I felt that to better appreciate her beauty that I would have to severly sublimate my desire to touch that beauty, that to do so would be invasive. This is, I know, entirely in keeping with my complex of not causing harm of any sort to a woman and in my weird little mind, even wanting to kiss her was an affront on her, an unwarranted invasion, something to be stopped. This, philosophically speaking, does not lessen her own beauty, for her beauty should be, and is, indifferent to my experience of it. My perception of her beauty might be in part reliant upon some sort of perception of it or experience of it through some means, but her beauty as a property of her is not at all dependant upon my perception. Enhanced maybe, but not dependant of. It seemed to my mind that for her to be beautiful to me I would have to ensure that she was beautiful to me through a means other than my kissing her. This doesn’t make sense as I write it out, for it seems obvious to me that a daughter or niece or mother could be beautiful to one without touching in the manner I want to touch Natassja. Still, to a stupid man walking to his truck alone at midnight on a Sunday it made perfect sense. In my mind for me to fully show to myself that she was beautiful and that I thought so for her own sake and not for the sake of any urges that I had for kissing her that I would have to refrain from ANY kissing of her whatsoever, but that I would also have to hope that she would hook up with another man and become happy in a relationship and be with him and that he would love her and get a chance to kiss her and that if all of this happened and I, not kissing her at all, could say to myself, I have not kissed her and yet still she is beautiful. This would make her beauty independant of my desires in my mind.
It doesn’t make sense and I don’t understand it now. I write it out and think, while doing so, that I am a complete idiot. Yet I have to write it out so that I can understand it. As I told her tonight, if one is going to have a mental issue to have to work out of, this one isn’t that bad… it isn’t as bad as say I was an asshole or something.
But right now I feel incredibly lonely and that there is nothing I can do but just trust that Fate has some great love in store for me. That no matter where I go, I will not meet a woman with whom I can love and who can love me and we’d be happy. That there is nothing to do but simply hope that she comes along with a large sign that says “eddie, I’m the one”, for right now feel that there is no way else that I’d know.
About the beneficiary thing. Before I signed up for the guard I was having moments where I could ‘feel’ myself drawing up an M-16. It felt natural and I could imagine my body going through the motions. I had not thoughts of the war, of enlisting, etc… but at times my mind and ‘muscle memory’ easily ‘felt’ the raising of a rifle. Recently I’ve had flashes of daydream where I die. I am with three other soldiers and we are in a humvee that is broken down, possibly by a roadside bomb, and we are unable to move. We are attacked by many enemy and we are running out of ammo. The flashes are short, but in them, I tell my troops that we are going down fighting, that surrender (and being dressed in an orange jumpsuit and beheaded with a knife while shithead praise an unworthy god in the background) is not an option. And with that I continue to fight, killing more before I am killed in gunfire. That is the dream. I write now that I fully expect to die in my deployment next year. I harbor no ill will and will do so trying to defend my brothers in arms. In the past I’ve listed family support groups as the beneficiary to my SGLI, and girlfriends, and family… but I wanted to tell Natassja that I wanted to list her. Even if she gets a boyfriend and so on and so forth. She had mentioned to me that she had wanted to save up money and to create a studio to start singing and recording. She is actively pursuing her dreams as much as she can and continues to try to go further. What more is there? How can I not love that? Aside from my urge to kiss her… she is indeed a beautiful soul and I am indeed fortunate to know her and to have her think of me as a friend and I am happy to have her as a friend. Therefore, should I indeed die in my next deployment, I would love for something to come out of it such as helping a person who struggles to follow her dream to do so more.
It is late. I have classes and work tomorrow. I am very lonely and want to lie in the dark and feel sorry for myself. I’ll try not to let myself do this, for it does no good. I should just chalk it up to Fate…. that someday Fate will have Her and me introduce to each other. I remind myself of the Latin phrase that I’ve kept near to my heart…. Spem Semper Habemus…. we always have hope.