[quote name='Scobie']Meh. Giant enemy crabs only get you so far when you're in a time of some real national peril. I'm a big fan of Ron Paul, have been for years, and I love how he's been stirring the pot in the Republican candidate debates to the point where the party is passing petitions to get him booted out.
I'm also a huge fan of Dennis Kucinich. He's a fine, upstanding young man.[/quote]
Speaking of fine, upstanding young (?) men...
Scobie led me on in an internet relationship for over a year, and then dumped me after I finally agreed to have sex with him (when I was visiting him in South Carolina).
About a week ago, essentially out of the blue, I received the following message from him:
"With a mindful eye on the passage of time and a remembrance of our brief time intertwined, I give you this -- a note as possessed of the creative spark and poetry as those you wished I could pen for you when our hearts were intertwined.
I am writing this now with memories of our most magical and synergistic times -- I remember now that night with Carmen Lundy and those times over dinner in creative restaurants, softly lit, filled with a very real truth and the calmness of moments of genuine beauty, and with such love and adoration for you and your soul so beautifully displayed across the loving silverscreen of your eyes, and watching our reflection in a floor-length mirror on a door in your Columbia apartment on St. Valentine's Day.
I wanted you. I loved you. I needed you. You were mystical, beguiling, and lovely in every meaning of the word. You filled me with a desire, a passion, and a love -- a genuine affinity -- that brought certainty to the chaos of our human condition. To borrow a phrase from Yeats, you held some strange ability to knit me more into the fabric of the life. You were the most erotic and beautiful creature I have ever known, and our time together was a treasure with boundless possibility.
Our conversations were cosmic. You poured ideas into my mind and excited me intellectually as I have never been made to feel. The curve of your breasts were of the heavens, your hips were divine, and your lips were infinitely kissable -- my greatest regret is the thousand kisses we never shared. For a time (which seemed so great then, but now surprisingly and depressingly small), I wanted nothing more than to caress your shoulders and kiss them and to be with you and bring you pleasure, and ache with you, and hold you, and fall asleep with you, and wake up with you. In this time, I reconstructed my world to exist around you, like some brilliant, blazing sun, a celestial wonder.
During this time, all I could ever hope for was to stand behind you and wrap my hands around your waist and kiss gently along your neck and your jaw and breathe you in and sip your lips like a calming tea. Making love to you brought real meaning to life and in some way made me feel closer to God.
Your thick and lush hair, fallen carelessly over your shoulders, was art. Your features were lovely, as was your mind and your sense of style. Seeing the way you carried yourself and coming to know something about the things you appreciated were like a precious secret that I somehow fell into. Watching you dress in the mornings was theatre so perfect that I, as your audience, felt inadequate and unworthy of such beauty. The way the sunlight danced through the lightest of hairs along your thighs and the small of your back and across the lovely curvature of your bottom, and the delicacy of a string of fragile fabric slipping up between was poetic and beautiful. I loved the mythology of you. I loved the feel and the taste of you.
I adored you and felt infinitely fortunate that I had found you and that you cared for me, too. Seeing you come and go brought a thrill that a more fragile heart could not hope to bear. A thrill that was informed by knowledge of the dazzling magic and the rhythm of your body and the sweetness of your sighs and morning kisses.
Everyone is entitled to at least one or two great love affairs, and with you I feel that I certainly had mine.
The frustration of feeling it all unravel was penetrating and cruel. There seemed to be no way that the real, pure beauty of what we shared could be contained. I came to feel that you were too complex for me to ever fully understand. Too demanding, too wild, and too uncontrollable. But I never wanted to control you, just to join you for a while on some greater journey. I was broken by the realization that my time with you on that journey could only be for a comparatively few steps, I came to a point where I no longer knew how to love you. I felt completely lost, unable to form intelliglble sentences to describe what my heart knew was happening, and each step was painful.
And so I endured through your expressions of frustration and rage, and I felt ashamed by my rejection of you and of your outpourings of loss, because I felt them, too. I could never find the words. They were completely gone. I was struck dumb, and in spite of the ugliness of our collapse, I was sincerely wishing you well.
Now, looking back on our time together and our time apart, my only wish and my only hope is that you have found some measure of peace in your life and can find some forgiveness for the collapse in my faith and ability to love you and to make love to you in the pure and true way that you needed and deserved.
I don't want to remember the brutality of our ending. I would rather remember the way you looked back then when I could reach across the table and touch your hand and could let my gaze find yours and feel content.
There have been countless nights when I've thought of you, sometimes bitterly, sometimes with longing, and sometimes with an immediate sadness. I hope that you can move on, knowing that what we shared was incredibly, vibrantly real, and exotic and beautiful, but that our time has sadly passed.
I sincerely and truly wish you only the very best. You are possessed of incredible potential and rare talent, and I hope that you find some way of expressing it meaningfully in this world, and that you let our memory pass peacefully into the past.
Yours,
Greg"
My guess is that he's suffering from loneliness and low self-esteem and misses having someone to toy with/abuse psychologically. I tried to reply to his message, and was told his account had been closed.
His last girlfriend (before me) recently subjected herself to someone using a speculum on and inserting Alka-Seltzer tablets and Coke into her vagina for "Opie and Anthony's" road show in Cleveland, Ohio.