Why won’t it stop?

Two years ago I had some of the most euphoric experiences of my life. Why can’t I get him out of my head? Even now he’s toxic.

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January 27, 2010 is when I first touched the man who didn’t exist.

I saw, heard, touched and smelled him under on the bench in front of those windows.  Did I tell you he never existed?

I saw, heard, touched and smelled him in this airport lobby.  Did I tell you he never existed?

Had I not dreamt about him two nights ago, this post wouldn’t exist.  Ha… what a coincidence.  It wouldn’t exist… just like he never did.

It’s been at least a year since I’ve felt so anxious, so… confused.

Our relationship began six weeks prior to meeting each other in person.  I couldn’t fall asleep, so I went online to find a stranger who was interested in speaking over Skype until I fell into my slumber.  It took awhile to pull his contact information out of him; I enjoyed the challenge so much I didn’t want to give up on it. I was pretty sure I knew just how to “break” him, though.  I sang for him.  It was my last-ditch effort.  He said he was going out, so I posted a recording of me singing “Goodnight, Sweetheart” from the movie Three Men and a Baby. His next message is what changed the course of… well… the rest of my life, really.

I’ll spare you the details, but two weeks after we started talking on a daily basis – hours and hours each day – we decided to meet in Las Vegas in April during a business trip of mine.  I chose to go out two days earlier than needed so I could spend extra time with him.  Except, about three weeks after that decision was made, he boarded a plane and flew halfway across the country with about $20 left in his wallet… and to his name.

Following my instructions, he walked a straight line to the big TV screen and took a right.  You can see some large windows in the distance; I touched him for the very first time in front of those windows.  In fact, if memory serves me correctly, I may have timed this posting right down to the minute.

Who am I trying to fool?  He didn’t actually walk on that floor; I never touched him two years ago.  He didn’t exist.  So why is it then that two years ago this evening was the beginning of the most tumultuous year of my life?