I think she said she wrote me sometime in July for the first time. Some kind of spill her guts e-mail saying things like, wow you're great...I've read your history - It's kept me up late nights many nights. Then she told me I was all at once an egotistical cocksucker...called me fascinating...then boring...smug and false...judging my missteps and conquests with women...dealing with all the dickhead selfish and hurtful things I constantly say and claim. Every now and then I get an e-mail from some girl posing either as herself or someone else, telling me I moved her, telling me I wow her, essentially wanting to have a better connection with me - some guy who writes about things on the internet, hopefully truthfully, maybe over dramatically, but always with honesty.
Anyway, Reese came to me because she was in need of something. At first, because we're trained to do so, I thought it might all be a bit too much. After all, here was a girl who wasn't even offering me her name, her identity, and she was spilling her life to me...asking me to spill my life to her. I don't remember the point, but there was certainly a point where things changed between us, at least for me. I stopped seeing her as some girl trying to reach out and grab something she could never have - statements like that piss her off wildly and she'll be sure to tell me all about it, leaning back on the ever too familiar, you're such an incredibly arrogant motherfucker, or something in the ballpark. I don't mean for this to sound overly sentimental, but at some point she turned into a friend...and at some point I sat back in my chair after sending a long reply to a long e-mail she had sent and thought to myself something like, wow...28 years old and does a girl in this world know me better in this moment than one I've never met...one who hasn't even given me her name. Interesting moment for a reflective soul, I'll give that.
It's something after 8 on a Thursday. We've both been busy for the past few weeks, trading e-mails about meeting up, a face-to-face but it hasn't yet been allowed to happen. Tonight works. I'm taking a drive to the Beverly Hills Hotel. I'm going to have a cocktail in the Polo Lounge and told Reese to meet me there. She'll read this sometime before or after she goes and will undoubtedly give me shit - especially for preemptively stealing her thunder about giving me shit for writing another post about her. I think she's thinking a little bit too much about this right now. I think it's working her up, nerves and such. I think she is nervous as hell to see me, to reveal herself to me and I understand why but don't. I love myself and think I'm hot shit but mostly for the sake of arc. Maybe she thinks I'm something I'm not. Maybe I fail to give myself proper credit. Is that even possible? I'm going to tell her that I don't want to know her real name...because to me it will always be false. Reality and truth came in the form of a false reach out a long time ago. Seeing this girl and meeting this girl isn't going to change anything for me. What she is has been engraved - this struggling and talented and fierce and wounded and confused fucking bitch that I want to sit in front of and say something like, I got you if you got me. We're gonna be just fine.
