2001-09-23 - 6:35 p.m.

To all the fine ladies…

Except one.

I'm sorry. But I'm afraid every woman—and a few men—'s favorite lunch meat is off the market. You all had your chances. I've been living here, single, in Maine for over a year. I've been writing here for over 11 months. You had your chances, as I was turned down by or just simply failed in my pursuits of girls throughout the year, if one of you many fine ladies who I *know* have been wishing you were here—don't try to deny it, you all wanted to—so you could date me had come up here, you'd have been set. I was just waiting for one of you to take me up on my many offers.

And now you're too late. You had all your chances. But nooooo… not *one* of you took up the simple task of moving to Maine. And so it appears you don't get the chance to know the wonderment that is dating me. The constant bliss of knowing I'm in the same town as you along with the ecstatic glee of actually being my girlfriend. You could have had it. You could have had it all.

And now, to think, the chance has been lost to all of you (except of course, for this one) by someone who is currently living in New York. That's right. All this talk of moving to Maine, and how the only thing keeping a lot of you from the greatness that is me is distance, and I find myself falling for someone who isn't even in the same region of the country right now. That must sting, huh?

I will say this, though. Sarah did have a few specific logistical advantages, of course. I mean, for one, I've known her in real life for years. I went to school with her for two years, went to Upward Bound with her for as many summers. Also, just comparing her to all of you other diaryland women out there reading this diary, she's been reading it for the longest. She had this address at 4:42 AM on October 6th, less than four hours after I started my diary. I know this because it's one of the first things I ever said to her on ICQ, so it's in my history. My memory for detail isn't *that* good.

Since then, basically every day she's been reading this. She's been reading here almost as long as I've been writing it. And she seems to read it even more diligently than I write it. And you know, I'm really glad she did.

And where at the beginning of this summer she was my good friend who happened to live in Belfast, after a while she became the closest friend I have. The only person I can still really sit and talk with about things that I might not even write in here, because I know she gets it. Someone I can curl up on a couch (back when I slept on the couch) and now my bed and just sleep with (literally, mind you, actually just asleep together) and feel fully comfortable doing it. Well, not *physically* comfortable yet, because I'm not used to it, but mentally comfortable anyway.

And what feels really great to be able to say is… I love her. It's true, and not in the way that I need a long explanation of the various ways that a feeling of love can be expressed like I had months ago. But in the way that I feel totally comfortable saying it, because it's true.

And of course, I only get to that point after she's gone. Off to New York she went, joining the mass exodus of people from the area, back to school, with me still here. And you know, I've never considered a serious move for a person more than I am now. Not that I'm going to move any time *too* soon, but I'm seriously thinking about it now. Just so I can be around her more.

So, as disappointed as I know you all are, I'm sorry to say your worst fears have been answered, and I have joined the ranks of the unavailable, yet otherwise perfect men. I know how hard this will be for all of you, or rather, all of you except one, but don't worry, I'm sure there are support groups for your kind. Bololovers Anonymous, a 36-step program for getting over the deep personal sense of loss that is knowing your chances with me have been dashed. I know it will be long and hard to deal with, but I truly believe you can do it. And you may want to start now, as I am hoping this is going to last quite a while. Yes, I know this makes me seem like a cold-hearted bastard, so happily destroying all the hopes and dreams of Net-using girls in the general age range of 17-21, but you know what?

I can handle that. I'm perfectly happy being a cold-hearted bastard if that means I'm with someone I can honestly love again.

I hope you all can forgive me.