Then I walked on. I have nothing to say to him - nothing to say to his face. But I need to get rid of this, I thought; I need to purge myself of these words and deliver them to him, physically, the old-fashioned way. I need to get rid of this, and soon, because that brief glimpse of him was a bludgeoning blow to my unstable emotions, and I came home and almost felt like I couldn't breathe, as if suffocating on these thoughts that I had, screaming at me about how bad my life has become ever since I met him.
Of course, there is no causal relationship between my angst and the brief period of having him in my life, peripherally. And I do not want him in my life at all; he didn't make me happy, he couldn't have, all he did was add an unnecessary source of stress and distraction to my life. But it was his bad timing, the coldness of his method, his unilateral cutting of communication - all of this collided with the angst and uncertainty and melancholy that I'd been feeling regarding my PhD. And so, inadvertently, I associate the two things a little bit too closely.
I need to get rid of it. I will do so sometime this week.
On a happier note: after I wrote the previous entry, I tried my best to do some work, but all I wanted to do was to read a novel - The Bell Jar - and have coffee. I was also hungry and I didn't feel like cooking, and so I went to Fitzbillies, The Bell Jar in hand.
Maybe he could tell that I wasn't in a good mood; I wouldn't be surprised, for I am an open book, unable to hide my feelings, most of the time not bothering to do so. After asking me how I was and eliciting a half-hearted 'I'm all right' from me which he didn't quite buy, Matt gave me extra food, asked if I wanted coffee; and when I asked if he'd make it, he said, 'I'll make it for you', and then told me to sit down when I was waiting to pay.
He's just the best, isn't he? He's such a sweetheart. He'd inadvertently and unwittingly brightened up my day so many times in the 9 months that I've known him that he really is a bright spot in my life. But that is because we keep things at a certain distance, isn't it? If we get closer, this bright spot will dull and fade, like a smudged fingerprint or water stains on a mirror.
I texted him later in the evening to say thank you for the food and coffee. He followed up with the punting; if all goes to plan, we're going punting on Tuesday.
I am not a good person to date. I am an amazing girlfriend in the moment: I show a lot of affection, I like giving presents, and I am wholly present and intense when I'm in love with someone.
But this fades quickly. I get bored after a while. That's essentially how most of my relationships have ended, the reason I am single at 30, almost 31. I quote Plath:
The same thing happened over and over:
I would catch sight of some flawless man off in the distance, but as soon as he moved closer I immediately saw he wouldn't do at all.
That's one of the reasons I never wanted to get married. The last thing I wanted was infinite security ad to be the place an arrow shoots off from. I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the coloured arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.
I bracketed and underlined the sentence in bold and wrote 'YES!' next to it.
It's not anything that is inherently wrong with the person. It's just that I like excitement, I like novelty, I like new things, I like difference; but after a while, the new becomes the mundane, the excitement becomes ordinary, and it is no longer novel. Yet, I want security and comfort and stability. Still quoting Plath, I guess I am neurotic then, for wanting contradictory things at the same time.
So I am not a good person to date. I am capricious, my affections die out as quickly as they are ignited, and I leave behind a broken heart.
I don't know why I am like this.