A memory

Today I thought about a sort of friend I met in a chatroom years ago, who ended up visiting me in Basel and who turned into a deep disappointment. His name is Gavin. 

After chatting with Gavin for a couple of hours in a chatroom – it was not a dating site, even if I was looking for a partner and hoped to find somebody – we decided to exchange e-mail addresses. This led to an intense e-mail contact. We seemed to get along very well, and we decided to chat some more on messenger. It was about… well, more than ten years ago. Technology was not like it is nowadays. I used to connect my computer with a modem via phone line, and there were no such things as Whatsapp for mobile phones. Mobile phones could not even take pictures. Anyway, we spent nights online talking to each other. My parents did not know about it, of course. It was difficult to hide all this, but I managed to; in the evening, before going to bed, I used to hide my laptop under my bed, to slip away in the middle on the night in my father’s room and talk to Gavin until four or five o’clock in the morning. 

Gavin appeared into my life at the beginning of my illness. I was having my first therapy sessions, with my first therapist, Doctor Gea. I suppose I had put all my hopes in this distant friend, because I started caring a lot about him. Way too much, for his being still an unknown. I idealized Gavin, and I remember even writing in my paper diary that "my life depended on Gavin". I think I was in love with him, but more than this he represented the hope that someone could give me some normal, ordinary but genuine love. He seemed to flirt with me, he would talk romantic every now and then. But, to be sure about everything, he wanted to meet me. I was absolutely excited, but agreed immediately. He was ready to undertake the trip from London to Basel just to see me. At this point, I definitely had butterflies in my stomach. I remember very well that this happened before my second therapy session, since I had to postpone it because I spent the weekend in Basel. Exceptionally. To meet Gavin. I told my parents that there was a meeting of the students’ association I was a member of – all students coming from my province were members of that association – so that they did not ask too many questions about my spending a weekend in Basel instead of coming home as usual. 

I picked up Gavin at the airport of Mulhouse and we travelled by bus to the city center. We were both very embarrassed… he was gorgeous. At that time, I did not have a clue about what to make with him: would he like to visit Basel, to go drink a coffee or a beer, to go to the cinema, to go to an art museum? I realized that I knew so little about that beautiful guy. And I was very shy and introverted, not accustomed to interacting with people. I had the impression to be a boring person, someone unable to have fun. Anyway, I took Gavin to the youth hostel where he would spend the night and then we went out for dinner. After dinner, we went to an Irish pub. I got the overwhelming impression that Gavin was not at ease. As if he just wanted to go back home as soon as possible. This was Friday. 

On Saturday, I took him to an art museum. This was a big mistake. He is not the kind of person who is interested in art. He spent the half of the time making fun of the works of art, asking if the painters painted them as they were in the looney bin. This was embarrassing. It was with great disappointment that I acknowledged that maybe, we were not made one for the other. We spent the rest of the day chilling in the city, but, being accustomed to London, Gavin found Basel ridiculously small. 

On Sunday, Gavin flew back to London. We kissed on the lips at the moment to say goodbye. 

On Sunday evening, we met online again. We spoke about our meeting. I was in love with him, despite the disappointment and the fact that we were obviously not compatible. Gavin was very distant. He said we might meet again, in London. I never had the intention to go to London. When I mentioned the kiss, he replied that "it was not a great deal, this often happened to him". Well, thank you. There was no feeling in that kiss, so that I have a memory of it, but I guess that nowadays he must have forgotten it. We went on chatting and e-mailing, even if not as often as before the meeting. I could sense this story die slowly. 

After a couple of weeks, Gavin said to me that he had to come to Switzerland for business. I was excited, since I took it for granted that we would meet. He had to go to Zurich, which is 50 minutes by train from Basel. Gavin refused to meet me. I lost any decency and begged him to save time at least for a coffee, but he just replied to do as if he were going to Australia, and to ignore him. He said clearly that he did not wish a serious relationship with me. At that point, I was brokenhearted. 

Sometimes I think about Gavin. I remember his birthday, on November 5th, every single year. This year, I was about to send him an e-mail to wish him a happy birthday, but I changed my mind at the last minute. There are things – or people – that must be let go, and Gavin and our short story belong to this sort of things. May he live a beautiful life, I will always be grateful for the magic moments he gave me. If he remembers me, I am happy; if he does not, I will survive. It is over.