Vanish

How can you believe someone who doesn’t exist online or in any virtual capacity? It is fishy as well as extremely mysterious. What kind of a person would have no virtual presence at all? I’ve got my theories about this theory. I mean there are several types of people who have no virtual presence. If I someday decided to go AWOL the first thing I’d do is vanish my digital signature. Google may be the God of search, but someone is determined not to be found will not be found. Ever. It is very possible to create a virtual black hole around your presence. To begin with get rid of that Facebook page. Get rid of email, and any other sites you may ever have signed up on. And viola, you do not exist.

However the bigger question here is not how to vanish, but why? What life event would be so scary, so traumatic that you'd wanna vanish? Alright there are quite a few reasons for someone to not have a virtual existence. For instance, a friend of mine was telling me sometime time back about such a thing. Apparently someone she knew met a guy on the party circuit. Said guy and girl became friends and eventually the girl decided, let me check this guy out. I mean why not, right? He didn't have a Facebook page, didn't have a Twitter page, and Google actually showed no results upon searching his name. Eventually they found out he was some kinda psycho, with a rap sheet a mile long and history of rape. Wow, huh?

It made me wonder, how much we have come to depend on the digital world. Even a decade back, the internet did not exist. Or at least a dependence on it wasn't there. Today, if you don't exist on the internet, you're probably a serial killer. Or just vary of the net, like my father, though he has email and a Facebook page and Linkedin! Law Enforcement has Cyber Crime Units for crying out aloud! Okay, i digress with this..

Coming back to the reasons for vanishing online. I believe, if I ever wanted complete peace and isolation, I would vanish my digital life. Go offline everywhere, Facebook, Twitter, Blogspot, Scribed, BM, Whatsapp, and the whole lot of them. I realize life would probably be a lot simpler and a lot easier if these things did not exist. Of course, today, life would be a lot lonelier if some form of presence wasn't maintained on these platforms. But, I also know, that would take a huge amount emotional distress to take this step. That or maybe I'll just stop caring about the world in general.

A thought comes to me as I write this. I met someone who did not exist online. He isn't a serial killer, just a normal guy who gave the wrong name. But, and that is a huge but (pun unintended), there was some sort of an attraction about someone who had no virtual presence. A mysteriousness that is almost magnetic in nature. It was this that got me thinking. Without doubt, I now know, that the allure of someone who is non-existent is far larger than the hottest, most charming and amazing guy you will ever meet. Someone who does not exist will ALWAYS be on your thoughts, it's like fuel for the fire that is your imagination. You will think and analyze and discuss it to death with your friends, they will warn you to stay away, and it will just get harder and harder to stay away. I am not the sort of person who can ever ignore a challenge, or a mystery. And that pretty much explains this monologue, and postmorten of events, feeling, reasons... 

All This Time

They say time heals every hurt. What they forget is that every hurt leaves a scar. It can be a tiny little abrasion on the skin, and it can be an ugly puckered pink angry lil fella. The point is that there is a scar. A scar that you can look at and remember the hurt it came from. Like the one on the side of my wrist. Slim long white line from over a decade ago. I still remember how I got it. I remember being chased around all over the school canteen, and then doing some chasing of my own. I remember my friend catching me, I remember said friend's obscenely huge watch scratching against my wrist, I remember going to the clinic, and I remember getting bandaged up by HIM. I didn't change that bandage for two whole days! (yikes right?) And I remember spending three years pining over him. I remember looking at the scar and sighing.. I remember looking at the scar and cringing. I still see that scar and get taken back to that August day in 1999...
And then there are scars that are entirely internal... Scars that no one can see, but you know are there. Scars that make their presence felt every now and then. Scars of wounds from long ago, wounds that were accidental, deliberate and stupid. Yes they can be all three at the same time. And it is these scars that keep from healing. That time can not change, that time cannot heal, that never fade away, no matter how long it has been since they were created. And yes, these are scars that are created... They are after all deliberate in nature.

The Bartender

I have this obsessive need to document my life from time to time. Sometimes it finds its way to my blog, at others it remains in the relative anonymity of my various diaries. Anyway, this brings me to this moment, Saturday, September 22, 2012. A friend of mine convinced me to go to some party for something, the details are a little fuzzy there. Well fuzzy in the face of what actually happened at the place. See now, I had fever that night, mild but enough to make me slightly cranky about a party, and enough to make me wanna say fuck it. I didn't. And thank the lord I didn't. We entered the place, and the first person I saw was the bartender (yes this note IS about him). You know, how in movies and TV shows you see these bartenders that every one talks to? Kinda like Ted Danson from Cheers? Well there was MY Ted Danson standing right in front of us. We sauntered up to the bar, and ordered our drinks, and there it was, that twinkle of mischief in naughty dark brown eyes. An open face, and a smile that was maybe otherworldly? Salt and Pepper hair, and I pegged him at someone closer to my father's age than mine.  My friend and I both agreed he was the hottest man we had ever seen. I for one couldn't take my eyes of this man, who had such an amazingly open face. A face that beckoned confidences, that literally willed you confess all your sins.

We moved off, sat down with our drinks, and eventually the party was in full swing. I lost track of how many times I volunteered to re-fill the drinks of my friends, just so that I could go up to the bar! Pathetic, I know, but such an irresistible person! When we stepped out for a smoke, I was looking in, when we were inside, I was looking THERE.. It was unbelievable how absolutely smitten I felt about this person. Forget the fact that he is drop dead gorgeous, there is something slightly feral about the way he surveyed the crowd, about the look he gave me, a few times. Animalistic vitality and a wild streak a mile long. He had the appearance of someone who has a devil-may-care attitude to match the feral look. Maybe it was the hair, the maturity, or maybe, just maybe it was the tiny sliver of vulnerability that I glimpsed just once in the night, whatever it was, I had found my cocaine.

Before I knew it, he was standing next to me, and just like that, we were talking like old friends. Investment banker, who had given up everything three years ago to travel the world, or at least, South America and Africa. In that moment, not only was I drawn to him, I was also unbelievably envious of this person. Here he was, standing next to me telling me about things I wanted to do. Sigh.. As if being good looking, dangerous, and charming wasn't enough, he HAD to have travelled to the EXACT places I wanted to go. We talk, it is a blur, I could only hear my heart pounding, and was only aware of his proximity. I don't think I can recall what we spoke about, even if I tried. I only remember, the warmth of his body next to mine, and the brush of his skin against mine when our arms touched. Sounds juvenile and all, but that was an electric touch. And before I could catch my breath, he was back at the bar.

More time flies, more drinks are downed, refilled, more inane conversation.. I touch the leather cuff on his wrist, "You know, this is very fifty shades" "Sweetheart, what you read is not a patch on what I know, have done" My breath catches in my throat. I look at him, he turns away to serve someone. And I think, there is no way I am ever forgetting that. And then it is time to leave, "I have to go" "Stay" He didn't need to repeat it. This man fascinated me, had my full attention. There was no way I could leave now, knowing I had the chance to see where this would go.

Last drinks are served, he is adept at this bar-tending business even if it isn't really his scene. I watch mesmerized, as this man charms everyone he talks to, men and women alike. We step into the theatre to watch the last trailer. He is standing next to me, his shoulder against mine, his hand on the small of my back. He leans in to say something, I don't hear it. I turn "If you want to say something say it to the other ear, I'm deaf in this one" and as I turn to present my other ear, "Who said I wanted to say  something?" And his lips are on mine. It is incredible that I could stand. His hand is on my arm, he leans in, deepens the kiss, and before I can react in a slightly embarrassing manner, he pulls away. A look passes between us, that I have never exchanged with anyone. "Lets get out soon as this is over" I had forgotten we were surrounded by thirty people.

We walk down the stairs, and we sit outside, and that is when the talking starts. He manages to get me to talk about things I never do. I don't even realize what I have told him, till I look at him, and I see in his eyes a vague reflection of what I was feeling.

I haven't been able to figure out what it was about this Bartender from HKV, but I was incredibly attracted to him. It was the attraction of moth to a fire, just before it bursts into flames. A dangerous man, he is. Maybe I should stay away, maybe I should take the plunge into the deep end. I don't really know. I have to figure it out. What I do know is that it's going to be one helluva ride, and if don't get my bearing right, it's gonna be crash and burn for me. After years I feel this way about someone. And I suppose I am right to hesitate. He will be the final undoing of who I am. And that is a feeling I have had in my gut since that first brush against my arm when my breath hitched in my throat.