May 20th, 1996

My dearest, dearest Nick,

You are simply not to be believed. You are too amazing to be true. But, there you are.

Well, I'm always whining about how much I dislike E-mail but somehow it is the right medium for this message. Besides an old-fashioned piece of paper with ink, there is no other form of communication suited for this message. One reason that mail (in either of its forms) is the only way I can tell you what I have to say, is because what I want to say is so personal it would be difficult to do it face-to-face. The other reason is that if I were talking to you face-to-face or even over the phone your energy would so dominate me I would stammer and stutter and forget what I was trying to say.

My head was swimming last night when we talked on the phone. You make me smile so much I have to laugh. But when I hung up, I felt myself start to cry. I felt very hurt. Very, very hurt. It surprised me. I didn't know where that much hurt was coming from. I didn't like it. I called Simon to get a shoulder to cry on. I never cry on anyone's shoulder. He asked me a few questions and then started pointing out inconsistencies in my story. I saw it was useless to try to get him to understand what I was feeling. So, I told him to stop listening for logic and get the picture that I had just had my heart broken in a swift ambush. A minute later, when he was finally getting with the program, I felt a wall slam shut. My heart, which had been so open and wounded just a moment before, closed as tight as the seal on a bottle. In mid-sentence I turned my hurt to anger. I got off the phone with Simon and calmly focused on my attention on my experience.

What had happened to me felt cold and unnatural. I felt taken advantage of, toyed with. I thought, "if Nick's work is really about gentleness as he claims, then what is this all about?" And why do I feel like someone just badly abused my little heart?

"What has gotten into you?" I asked myself. You never have this kind of reaction to men! Especially men with earrings and red shoes. So I tried to find an answer. Maybe it was that I had been insulted because you rejected me before I had a chance to decide whether I wanted to reject you. No, that was silly. This was something much bigger than that. Maybe it was that I meet so few really humorous, multidimensional men of any age, nationality, or lifestyle that I was just horrified that the first interesting man I have met in years had ruthlessly wounded me.

Then it hit me. I simply didn't have enough information to put the puzzle together. After all, I had just met you. I decided I was going to have to talk with you again just to gain my sanity. Whether you want to have a relationship (sexual or otherwise) with someone (anyone) should be your business. However, in light of being so incredibly charming to me and then telling me you knew you were giving mixed messages, I decided that you now owed it to me to tell me more about your reasons for deliberately giving sweet, unsuspecting women mixed messages.

So there I was. Ready to go to bed. In the last hour I had been charmed, exhilarated, wounded, angry, and logically putting together pieces of a puzzle. I fell asleep. At 1:30 I woke up, wrote furiously, finished reading your articles, which I had down loaded earlier in the day, and went back to sleep.

When I got up this morning I followed your advice and downloaded My Angel by the Lake. What a beautiful piece of writing! I was truly moved. I cried.

I went to work and tried to get my mind off you. I wondered, "Do you have this effect on everyone?" Are you blundering around leaving emotional chaos in your wake everyday? I have known people with a certain charismatic energy who kept the people around them stirred up all the time. I couldn't tell if that was the case with you (it hadn't seemed so). Or, was it that I had certain open receptor sites that your emotional energy bonded to and you were having this effect specifically on me. I decided it was both, but mostly the latter. In other words, you probably don't have this effect on everyone but you have had it on enough women to know what is happening when you see it. It must feel terrifying.

As the day wore on, I had the idea that what I had felt last night was not my heart being broken. I hardly even know you. What I felt was your heart being broken. For whatever reason, I had served as a screen and you projected your feelings on me. That sounds very weird but it's not if you phrase it another way. Because I was so charmed by you, and so open, you (consciously or unconsciously) quite successfully shared your experience of a broken heart with me.

My poor, poor Nicholas. If that is how you feel, I truly wish I could help you. You are really suffering. Behind your witty, charming, intelligent exterior you are so deeply hurt it makes me want to protect you. I think though, that you have transferred that hurt into brilliance and creativity. What a price you pay! And what a gift the world gets.

But Nick, it's not a fair trade. You deserve better.

You may think I am just ranting and raving, and you could be right. But from where I stand, I have given the most honest account I can of the last 24 hours. So . . . where do I go from here? That depends on you. My feeling is that I have met a person who is a real treasure, someone (as you might say) who is very, very special. I would like to try being friends. There is danger in that for me. I have no desire to feel again like I felt last night. However, if you can keep your energy to yourself just a bit, it might be possible for us to enjoy each other's company without anyone getting hurt.

I am lucky I will have four days to drive leisurely to the Sierras, go on wild flower hikes, and enjoy Laurie's company. I need a little breather from the emotional exhilaration of the last week. Whether I hear from you when I get back or not, you should know you have moved me very deeply. You're a cool guy Nick, red shoes and all, and it has been my privilege to meet you.