I wish I'd never wished!
There's a famous saying: “Be careful what you wish for because you may just get it.”
It always struck me as nonsensical, like saying that you shouldn't enter Lotto because you might actually win. As they say in chat rooms, WTF?
But recently I found out what it meant – with a vengeance ...
Ages ago, while at uni, I was utterly infatuated with a sweetly absent-minded and quirky young woman. Let's call her Jasmine. I experienced utter bliss when we finally pashed at a post-exam party. But the euphoria was very short-lived. See, I went to the pub for more beer then returned to discover that another guy had taken my place.
Devastated, I guzzled the entire “slab” (24 cans) I'd just purchased and passed out in a pool of my own vomit.
Although in the ensuing years I did get on with my life, I never fully let go. I kept believing that Jasmine was The One for me; that One Perfect Day we would be Together Again in a Beautiful World full of CAPITAL LETTERS.
And what do you know? Almost two decades later, she and I crossed paths again. The candle I'd held for her for so long quickly become a bonfire.
I couldn't believe my luck when, soon after resuming contact, we ended up in my bed. I can't recall how many times I'd said to myself: “Only when I am finally in Jasmine's arms will I be happy.”
Well, I was in her arms. And I was happy -- for about an hour. Then it all went pear-shaped pretty damn quickly.
See, we reminisced about that fateful party. I told her how deeply that smooching session was seared into my psyche.
“It was the pure definition of love to me!” I said between sobs.
“Yes, me too,” said Jasmine, wiping the tears from my eyes – then hers.
She described her recollection of the event. But some details didn't quite gel. Gradually I twigged that she was recalling another snogging session, with someone else. In her mind, I was the next guy she pashed that night; the one with whom she broke my heart! How tragic was that?
My tears of joy became tears of pain. Oblivious, Jasmine drifted off to sleep. As she dozed serenely, I pondered my sad situation. I finally decided to be mature and forgive her.
She wants me now, I thought. That's the main thing.
But even that belief took a battering over the following weeks. Not only could she not remember who I was all those years ago; she couldn't distinguish me from other blokes in the present.
What I had mistaken for adorable quirkiness was actually 100% proof, howling-at-the moon insanity!
I tried to break it off. But she refused and began stalking me.
Now, I have been stalked once before. That wasn't the worst experience I've been through. It was quite flattering, actually ... But this was awful. Jasmine was both utterly obsessed with me, and not quite sure who I was. Really played havoc with my ego, that.
Then one day she just disappeared. Perhaps she'd found another bloke to torment -- maybe that guy from the party?
Who knows? I was just damn glad the nightmare was over.
Perhaps it was a good thing that I finally got what I wished for. I found “closure” as the shrinks say.
Still, I can't help thinking my life would have been a whole lot calmer if I'd never bumped into Jasmine again; if I'd just kept that little candle burning softly in the back of my heart ...