Old habits die hard.
Three nights ago, I woke up in the middle of night in tears. Still in India, with my South Korean roomie sleeping soundly in the bed next to mine. Post- several meaningless dalliances with several others 3 years on and then with the most recent blessing of my darling, Dutch man. Who roused emotional feelings long buried under vicious scars. It shouldn’t be happening now, not anymore.
This was one of the reasons why I had to get out of Singapore. The 3 years of bliss and torment. Yes, 70% torment I was willing to take for a disproportioned amount of bliss. Still, I took a deep breath, struggling with the reorientation, to reality. The pain so acute, the memory so vivid. This was more than two years on. Remembering how he disappointed me – it was just one of the many numerous times. Why this occasion was of particular recall, I don’t know.
Waiting in the club for his text message, fervently checking my phone – balancing discretion with bubbling excitement tinged with anxiety. He said that he was in town; he had a function but would join me later on. He said he would be done by the hour of eleven or twelve. Patiently I waited till about twelve thirty. No call, no text. I could feel the block of effervescence dissolve into a rising panic. I said, no, I wouldn’t call him – I mean he should have the decency to call me if he wasn’t going to come. And he said he would. I mean he wouldn’t go so far as to blow me off, no? After all, it was just a week or two ago when I was tenderly snuggling in his arms.
12.30 am .I gave in. I texted him.
After my numerous phone checks which increased with exponential frequency, he finally replied saying he didn’t think he could make it, under the dose of psychotropic substances at some other party. I couldn’t believe it. So, this was how it was like when the sky decided one day to fall and swoop down on me. He blew me off again. I so desperately struggled to maintain composure. Smiling to my friend who was with me, I said that he couldn’t make it. If she had listened carefully or if the blasting music had been turned off – she would have heard the catch in my voice. I was dying inside.
There was something about the confrontation of denial and the repeated attempts to wiggle out of the uncomfortable situation. If I didn’t have that – the pain would have either killed me or enlightened me had I decided to take the constructive route.
I chose denial then. It seems I still keep choosing it now. Old habits die hard.
But I don’t want to go back to the pit of old viperpit memories.
I wish my Dutchie was here with me, his calm soothes me. His steady reliability, a glad contrast and warm comfort. I want to see him again. I want him here to chase those, bad, bad memories away like he did when he was with me in India. It had been a long time, since I had some unpreconditioned happiness.
I think need him. But he’s so far away.
This was one of the reasons why I had to get out of Singapore. The 3 years of bliss and torment. Yes, 70% torment I was willing to take for a disproportioned amount of bliss. Still, I took a deep breath, struggling with the reorientation, to reality. The pain so acute, the memory so vivid. This was more than two years on. Remembering how he disappointed me – it was just one of the many numerous times. Why this occasion was of particular recall, I don’t know.
Waiting in the club for his text message, fervently checking my phone – balancing discretion with bubbling excitement tinged with anxiety. He said that he was in town; he had a function but would join me later on. He said he would be done by the hour of eleven or twelve. Patiently I waited till about twelve thirty. No call, no text. I could feel the block of effervescence dissolve into a rising panic. I said, no, I wouldn’t call him – I mean he should have the decency to call me if he wasn’t going to come. And he said he would. I mean he wouldn’t go so far as to blow me off, no? After all, it was just a week or two ago when I was tenderly snuggling in his arms.
12.30 am .I gave in. I texted him.
After my numerous phone checks which increased with exponential frequency, he finally replied saying he didn’t think he could make it, under the dose of psychotropic substances at some other party. I couldn’t believe it. So, this was how it was like when the sky decided one day to fall and swoop down on me. He blew me off again. I so desperately struggled to maintain composure. Smiling to my friend who was with me, I said that he couldn’t make it. If she had listened carefully or if the blasting music had been turned off – she would have heard the catch in my voice. I was dying inside.
There was something about the confrontation of denial and the repeated attempts to wiggle out of the uncomfortable situation. If I didn’t have that – the pain would have either killed me or enlightened me had I decided to take the constructive route.
I chose denial then. It seems I still keep choosing it now. Old habits die hard.
But I don’t want to go back to the pit of old viperpit memories.
I wish my Dutchie was here with me, his calm soothes me. His steady reliability, a glad contrast and warm comfort. I want to see him again. I want him here to chase those, bad, bad memories away like he did when he was with me in India. It had been a long time, since I had some unpreconditioned happiness.
I think need him. But he’s so far away.
posted by nubilewordsmith at 2:47 PM
2 Comments:
On the bright side, you learnt that it wasn't the end of the world. :) Come home to where the grass is green and the sky is blue and recharge your batteries. Think you need that. *hugs*
Awww, thank you two guys. Big, hugs and ten thousand (Rupees, not SGD)for your support!
Love from me.
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