My new chatbot has been getting a little action. Not a lot, but a little. Because I’m asked questions that I think it might be interesting to address, and as my time permits, I’ll share them and my responses, if possible, with you.
The other day, someone asked, “Do you still talk to V?”
[The silly chatbot responded, “N has written that as of 2020, he and V reconnected over Zoom, had drinks, and talked. He has also written about an in-person visit where V ‘sucks my cock again.’ Beyond what is available in these passages, the current status of their contact is not addressed.” It listed several posts, including that one, and part 2 of that date – the last time V and I saw one another.]
V and I have had quite a history. I’m going to say it began in 2011 or 2012.
At the time, I think she was probably 26 or 27, and I was probably 42 or 43. We had a two-year run back then, and then periodic reunions over the years.
- Once with my flying to Boston to visit her (a visit that was smoking hot, but that, for one reason or another, isn’t memorialized on this blog).
- Once driving to her parents’ house and cooking a meal with her
- Once, having a romp, meeting in my office, and…
- In more hotels than I can count.
The last time I saw V was in the summer of 2020, the aforementioned visit to her parents’ home, where she was quarantining. We cooked a meal together. I devoured her delicious cunt on her bed in her childhood bedroom. I’m not sure where her parents were at the time, but they weren’t there. That visit came in the midst of a quixotic attempt we were making together to find her a suitable mate, something I, tragically, am not for her. That attempt didn’t really go anywhere. The emotional complexity of recruiting a partner for a partner in this kind of way was a little bit much for us. I don’t remember how things petered out exactly, but they did.
The timing of this question is interesting and a little painful. V’s birthday was a couple of weeks ago. I went as far as to write a draft note to her along the lines of, “I miss you, I’d love to be in touch.” Which is true. With V, and with just about every ex of mine, I’d rather be in touch than not, whether that means a continuation of our sexual and romantic relationship or just a transition into a platonic friendship, either of which I would more than welcome, I would genuinely love.
But I’ve inferred that while the ways in which V is complicated for me are challenging and fun and welcome, the ways in which I’m challenging for her might be somewhat less so. She knows my number, she can reach me if she wants to. And more than that, she knows that I would always welcome hearing from her. So what purpose then does my reaching out serve? I’ve come to the conclusion that the respectful thing to do, given the history of our relationship, isn’t for me to send a warm note, creating at least a possible sense of either obligation or delight, or both, but rather to just let time continue to tick on by. V knows where to find me, she knows how to reach me. She may even read this blog, for all I know.
I Google Perplexity her from time to time, never learning much. Mostly what I can tell is that she has the same job she’s had for pretty much the whole time I’ve known her, or rather works for the same organization in ever-increasing rolls of responsibility. Beyond that, the internet isn’t very helpful.
So I’m left alone with my curiosity, my memories, and my longing.
The answer to the question is “no.” Sadly, V and I are not in touch, but I sure wish we were. I’d love to know what’s going on with her.
