He covers me with his wings...

ardship and adversity are certainly a test of one's mettle. I'd faced more than I thought I could endure in the prior two years, and had plodded along hoping that this spell of unfortunate events would come to an end. I'd looked forward to the chance to meet Doug and see what might develop between us, especially along the lines of the sensual fantasies we'd explored during our chat sessions, but learning of his marital status, I was forced to accept that perhaps that had never been a mutual interest of his. It was, of course, a disappointment to me.

More importantly, the prospect that the friendship we'd developed over the year could be transient, or worse yet, merely a front or facade from inception, was much more devastating to contemplate. I reflected on the Dutch proverb, "He covers me with his wings and bites me with his bill" and hoped that would not be the case. Once again, I focused on the feeling of relief I would have once I made contact with him. After all, his passion had been intoxicating, but I cherished his companionship, and the intellectual and witty discourse far too much to let the reason he felt the need to adopt a false persona stand in the way of a resolution.

I began to craft an email to him that would eventually take me several weeks to muster up the courage to send. Although I'd been deeply hurt to learn his situation in the way I did, it was critical that I convey how his friendship meant a great deal to me, now more than ever, as this revelation had left me incapable of ever opening up to another stranger again. Yet, I had no circle of friends, colleagues or family here. Each day, prior to sending the email, I'd review the draft to see that I'd expressed myself clearly and spared him as much embarrassment as was possible. It began using the very same opening words that he'd used when he sent his February 1 email to me the year prior.

"So, now it's my turn to repeat words once offered to me...'Obviously, I was the one who misinterpreted all of the signals for I was beginning to think you were interested in me and would like to pursue something along those lines. I hope you'll think no less of me for expressing my impassioned pleas to you' and now I feel so utterly embarrassed that I thought the feeling was mutual"

On January 18, 2005, I pressed "send" and off it went. I was hopeful that his masquerading could end and our friendship get back on track.

Within a matter of days of sending the email, while participating on Visa Journey, one of the immigration message boards I'd joined near Christmas and under an entirely new moniker that had no reference to the moniker I'd used on ILW, I answered a question one member had posed. A moment passed, and then a Private Message appeared on the screen. I was puzzled. I'd made no mention of myself in any posts since joining. I'd never implied my gender, geographic location, immigrant status - Nothing. No one knew me there, and my posting profile was empty. So why was anyone contacting me? And yet it read,

"The average Joe wouldn't know the term 'diadromous' ~ are you a biologist, too?"