Virtually real- Virtuellement vraie

Micheline Harvey: Virtual Assistant, real person/Adjointe Virtuelle, mais tout à fait vraie

Je suis vraie – I’m real March 15, 2017

bereal

Je suis vraie

Je suis vraie, je ne sais pas être autre chose. Je ne connais pas bien les règles du jeu. Vous savez, ce jeu où il ne faut surtout pas montrer à quelqu’un qu’il nous plaît, où il faut demeurer distante, mystérieuse, évasive et floue? Ce jeu où il ne faut surtout pas rappeler le mec ou le texter trop souvent, car cela voudrait dire que je suis trop disponible, trop enthousiaste, trop facile?

Je ne suis pas facile. Mais si je m’intéresse à toi, et que j’ai décidé de te le montrer, tu as de la chance. Je ne m’ouvre pas à n’importe qui, et peu d’hommes peuvent capter mon attention, m’intriguer, et garder cette attention. Alors, si tu m’intéresse, je vais te le faire savoir. Je vais soutenir ton regard, je vais te sourire beaucoup, je vais te parler, t’écrire et te montrer qui je suis, incluant mes pensées bizarres, mon sens de l’humour un peu douteux, mes passe-temps étranges, tout!

Si tout cela te plaît, alors dis-le moi. Parle-moi, dis-moi comment tu te sens, sois présent, écoute-moi, appelle-moi, laisse-moi t’écouter, serre-moi fort, fais-moi rire, ne m’oblige pas à me demander ce que tu penses, ne me laisse pas me soucier de mes réactions ou des tiennes, ne me laisse pas me faire du mauvais sang et stresser sur le foutu jeu. Sois vrai. Si tu m’as charmée, tout ce que je veux c’est que tu sois vrai, aussi.

On ne sait jamais ce qui va arriver, court terme, temps partiel, long terme ou juste l’histoire d’un bel été? Mais pourquoi s’en soucier quand on n’a rien d’autre de certain que le moment présent?

On perd tellement de temps avec ce jeu. Et pourquoi? La vie est courte… comme ils disent! Il faut déguster la bonne nourriture, boire le bon vin, danser si on en a envie, montrer nos sentiments, prendre des risques, même si la situation semble compliquée ou sans espoir. Une véritable connexion est une chose beaucoup trop précieuse et rare pour la laisser passer!

***

I’m real

I’m real, it’s the only way I know how to be. I can’t play the game. You know, that game where you’re not supposed to show someone that you like them, where you’re supposed to remain aloof, mysterious, coy, and unclear? That game where you are not to call him back or message him too often, because that means you’re too available, too eager, too easy?

I’m not easy. But if I like you, and I’ve decided to show you how I feel, you are lucky. I don’t open myself to just anyone, and not just any man can catch my eye, intrigue me, and keep my attention. So, if I like you, I’ll let you know. I’ll hold your gaze, I’ll smile at you, I’ll talk to you, I’ll write to you, and I’ll let you see who I am, strange thoughts, quirky sense of humour, crazy hobbies, everything!

If you like all of that, then let me know. Talk to me, tell me how you feel, show up, listen to me, call me, let me listen to you, hug me hard, make me laugh, don’t let me wonder what you’re thinking, don’t leave me to worry about my reactions or yours, to wonder and stress about the game. Be real. If I fell for you, all I want is for you to be real, too.

We don’t know what it will lead to, short term, part time, long term or just a fun summer? But why worry about that when all we have is right now?

We waste so much time on this game. And for what? Life is short, as they say. Eat the delicious food, drink the wine, dance if you feel like it, express how you feel, take a chance, even if the situation seems hopeless or complicated. A true connection is a terrible thing to waste!

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Or maybe I just wasn’t listening? August 16, 2014

RobinWilliamsAlone

I sometimes feel like my husband no longer hears or registers what I say anymore. I make conversation, tell stories, talk about things, and the very next day or even just a few hours later, he will mention the same facts as if it was the first time, or act completely surprised if he walks in as I’m telling them to someone else.

To quote the late Robin Williams: “I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone, it’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people that make you feel all alone.”

When we first met, he seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. I remember conversations, laughter, interesting banter, insight, sharing private jokes. He seemed to drink in my every word and as I recall, he participated, talked, shared, laughed and was completely present.

Or maybe I just wasn’t listening?

Maybe I was doing all the talking, the joking, and filling in the silence with banter, and ideas, and monologues about the many things that interest, surprise, shock and amaze me? Maybe I was so into it, or so into me, that I never even noticed the glazed over look in his eyes or the fact that he had not said much of anything the entire time?

Maybe I didn’t notice him looking over my shoulder, behind me, around me, anywhere but at me when we were out on a romantic dinner together? Maybe it was just my imagination when I thought that he kept looking into my eyes, at my smile, that he only had eyes for me.

Maybe I was too wrapped up in myself to realize that he didn’t share anything deep or significant. Maybe I was too involved in my thoughts to notice that he only shared positive things about himself, never a vulnerable moment, never a bad moment, never a shadow of doubt.

Or maybe I just wasn’t listening? Maybe I have changed in the same way? I don’t think so; I think I’ve simply become quieter, as a result of feeling that I am not heard.

My world is lonely this week. I have cried three times about Robin Williams’ death, about the pain he was in, and about how he chose to leave us, or how depression, fear and anxiety told him to go. My tribe is mourning and its members have expressed in their own words that they feel like me, as if we’ve lost a family member. Of course, we did not know Robin personally. But we still felt as if we did, because he was part of our tribe.

And if the funniest man in the world can’t make it, we wonder how are we are supposed to keep on going?

I know my husband doesn’t understand why I am so upset about this loss. But I don’t understand that he doesn’t understand. It’s a tribe thing, I guess.

Or maybe I’m just too wrapped up in myself?