The details are hazy to me after all these years, but I apparently presented the previous three poems to...sigh, Jane. I probably copied them from the lab-book in which I wrote my poetry back then to the blue stationary I used back in those pre-internet and e-mail days using a blue, erasable ink pen. We join the program already in progress:
One week after we saw Pink Floyd: The Wall she rejected me. The exact way and location has been, thankfully, expunged from my memory at this point. I do know that she felt bad about it, and that at least it was not the more usual, "We can still be friends." speech.
Please don’t shut me out, I need to talk to you.
Yes, please: I'm sure the puissant force of my neediness is exactly what can turn this relationship around.
I’m sorry about what happened last week.
I see now what I was trying to do:
Forcing you to become THE ONE I seek.
Is this the point where we talk about projection?
Robert Bly calls THE ONE "the golden-haired one" in Iron John, and makes the case that guys project the "perfect woman" on the first woman we fall for when, in fact, that perfect woman is an idealized part of our own psyche (the anima). Most woman will, naturally enough, flee at the first whiff of such expectations. Women go through similar issues with their animus, though Bly makes the case that there are some differences in how men and women go about integrating these other sides of their personality.
You said you couldn’t be "special" to me,
And for days after that I raged inside
Like some spoiled brat deprived of his candy,
Well, I am an only child, and pretty used to getting my way.
A wise friend’s letter came to turn the tide.
Here's where I must say that my friends really came through for me during that time. John wrote me lovely letters of encouragement during the weeks of this little drama. Then over Christmas break all my high school friends helped me commiserate.
It was a couple of years later, after he came out to me, that I learned that John was going through a similar, but far more difficult, crisis over his straight roommate at the very same time. I am extremely grateful and amazed that he would support me while his being in the closet prevented him from seeking similar support from me.
It’s you I like, not what you can give me,
And I write because I enjoy writing,
Not because I expect you, Jane, to be
Part of something "special" and exciting.
Even if you give me nothing, you see,
You are already someone special to me.
And bullshit, yet again.
Yes, Little Mertseger, she was special to you, but you were not attractive to her. It's really that simple. The loftiest poetry in the world (let alone this screed of neediness and bullshit) could not change that fact.