At first, I couldn’t understand what Susan saw in me. Does she genuinely like me? Or is she just trying to get me to drop my guard?
My strategy had been to gain her sympathy by admitting that I had been foolish to post under those pseudonyms. The idea had been to make her more receptive to my offer of sharing some of the material from my biography of Pete (in return for her agreement to hold off going into print). Openly admitting that I had made a mistake went against all my usual defensive instincts. But I couldn’t see any other way of gaining her confidence, so I gritted my teeth and went ahead.
Now I can see that each time I admitted to some kind of vulnerability, Susan’s attitude towards me appeared to soften. So it would seem that this tactic proved more successful than I ever thought possible.
I suppose that I ought to feel pleased with myself, elated even. And at first, that is exactly how I felt. But now I feel an almost unbearable sadness. Because if I am right about how Susan reacted to me, then it is an indictment of how I have behaved for most of my adult life. How many relationships could have been different if I had not insisted on holding others at arm’s length, never allowing them to see behind the elaborate defences I had erected to keep them at bay?
Of course, it would be far too risky to see her again. It’s madness even to think about it.
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