I take her words to be the absolute worst-case scenario. For the sake of my own sanity and well-being (emotional, mental, intellectual, everything), that is the scenario that I need to believe. I need to keep reminding myself of the utter pointlessness of this thing, whatever it is, every time I find myself falling back to the same old putrid hope, some shit along the lines of how maybe it would work out, which makes absolutely no sense and is absolutely not steeped in any conception of logic or rational thought. How would it 'work out' when the facts are stacked against this tragically, melodramatically hopeless hope? More to the point, and brutally so, how would something work out with someone that doesn't care enough to talk to you?
I know that I spent a couple of weeks regretting the things that I said, especially telling him that I was done. The thing is, it may have come from an emotional place, but that itself does not mean that I did not think it through. I thought it through already prior to that night; I just didn't have the courage or conviction or strength to follow through on it. I knew that I was in a bad situation. I also knew that I wasn't someone who could exist in a grey area. I am categorical when it comes to relationships: you either want me or you don't. We are either committed or we are not. I said it already: 'Here is the bottom line then: if we cannot move forward, then it has to end, once and for all; and I will muster up the necessary steely resolve to face this and deal with it and accept it like I have done before.'
Of course, it is easier said than done, especially when one's persistent feelings for the other party is getting in the way of one's resolve. It feeds my sentimentality. My sentimentality has caused me to hang on to bad relationships longer than I should have, simply because I could not bear to let go (see, most glaringly, my relationship with the French. Like...what the fuck? Should've ended that way sooner but I couldn't bear to). Now, my sentimentality is blinding me to all the negative things that I went through in the course of this romance with G, and it's showing me only the good things - and those are the things that I hang on to. But it is not the complete picture. It is a bit like a purely positivist account of the law: you can argue, and plausibly so, that the law is what statutes, properly enacted by a democratically elected legislature, say it is, and that the law should not be entangled with issues of morality, which are not only subjective, but which creates a backdoor for self-interested individuals to bring their own subjective, sometimes questionable, notions of morality into the public domain. The argument that the law should not be sullied by subjective notions of morality is a compelling one - but it does not capture the whole picture. It does not adequately explain why we have constitutional rights and fundamental liberties, why it is impermissible to legislate prejudice into positive law, and indeed, why we are even arsed about what law is. This latter question itself implies some relationship between law and morality; if law is disconnected from morality, then we wouldn't even question why we should follow the law. It is because it purports to order and regulate human conduct, and therefore purports to exercise legitimate authority over us, that the question of 'what it law' is important. Law needs to provide a compelling justification of its legitimate authority in order to secure our continued obedience to it - and I think it is necessarily the case that this involves ideas of morality. Human beings are not automatons; an unjust law would not inspire blind acquiesce just because it is the law. People may follow it out of fear, but it does not follow from the mere fact of conformity to an unjust law that there is no necessary connection between law and morality.
The point is, a purely positivist account of the law does not capture the whole picture (but there are very few pure positivists. Even Hart was not a pure positivist; he was what the literature calls an 'inclusive positivist'). Likewise, my sentimental account of my romance with G does not capture the whole picture. It obscures the emotional turmoil that I went through, whether directly caused by him or not. It also obfuscates the extent to which he had power over me, whether he wanted it or not. Objectively speaking, it was a bad situation; and Emily was spot on in saying that he would never have met my emotional needs. I don't consider myself high maintenace and I'm not someone who needs to be in constant Whatsapp or whatever contact with the person I'm dating. I was actually quite happy with how he would only text me at night because I don't like to be a slave to my phone. But when he didn't text me for a day or more, it was too much. Clearly, our thresholds for what was enough and what was not did not sync.
I still miss him and my dumbfuckass heart still wants him to some extent, but I'm not crippled by it anymore. His absolute silence which I choose to interpret as indifference is also helping a lot. It's taking away my expectations, killing my blind hopes. If words are indeed meaningless and actions speak louder than words, like he said, then his silence is speaking volumes, loud and clear. Of course, I'm someone who prefers to be told things explicitly; I am a words person, after all. But I can take a hint or two, and this time, I prefer an objective interpretation to a subjective one. If he really missed me, he would get in touch and stay in touch. If he really wanted to talk to me, he would ask for a Skype call. If he really cared, he would check in with me before I leave for Cambridge; and I very much doubt that he'd forget when I'm leaving, seeing as I am leaving on his birthday. I don't think the 15-hour time difference is a good excuse; there is enough overlap between the time zones for some decent contact.
I was willing to exist in a grey area with him, but it's quite obvious that this came from a place of sorrow and despondency than any careful evaluation of the consequences of that which I thought I advocated. I don't know what spell he cast on me but I can't be level-headed when it comes to him. It's better this way.
On a slightly different note, I was reading my diaries from years ago and I was once again made aware of a simple truth. This thing that happened with G, it was just me being myself. I am like that. I fall too fast, too hard, too soon. I revel in the excitement of someone new. I breathe in the fumes of an explosive romance like it were oxygen. When I'm in this state, I don't stop to think rationally about the choice that I'm making, because my heart is constitutionally incapable of doing so. It doesn't care about all the annoying, pesky reasons it shouldn't do what it wants to do. It does what it wants; it wants what it wants; and it is tyrannical in asserting its sovereignty over the rest of me.
I'd wished that I could be more logical when it comes to men, but I think that would take away a huge part of who I am. While I don't really believe in preserving a monolithic conception of self for its own sake, for what's the point of life if we always stayed the same and thus never learning from experiences, I think this aspect of my personality is important even if it's caused me grief and heartache. It is important because it's the same aspect that demands high standards. I want fireworks and passion and excitement in a relationship before the relationship inevitably fizzles out and settles into mundanity. Why should I settle for something that's boring from the start? That's not even going to pique my interest, let alone reach a stage where I'm so comfortable that I'm bored shitless. If I can be rational about a man whom I have strong feelings for, then it means that my feelings for him aren't that strong after all.
That said, I accept the possibility that I am wrong on that point and that I'm not making any sense at all. On that note, I am actually exhausted and I'd wanted to go to bed an hour ago. Instead, I'm up writing this. Seriously...why? Why?
I've tennis at 9AM, followed by a dental appointment to fill a cavity in a wisdom tooth. I am seeing a new dentist in Paragon and the first thing that came to mind when I went for my check-up was, 'Whoa, he's actually quite cute.' Then he spoke with an accent which I couldn't place (it sounded American and Australian at the same time), thereby presenting to me a lethal combination of cute ethnic Chinese guy and ang moh accent.
The lethalness of the combination was unfortunately nullified by two things: that he was poking around my teeth which was the most unsexy thing one could imagine; and that he was short. Alas!
Lastly, I went for Zumba with my mom on Tuesday morning. To say that it was mortifying would be a massive understatement. It's fun, but only if you know the steps. If you don't know the steps and are unable to coordinate your limbs like me, then it is mortifying. I couldn't keep up at all. I couldn't distinguish my left from my right. I was lost and confused. I didn't even sweat much, so I came home and hit the gym for 20 minutes before meeting Tse Chuan for lunch.
Okay I'm really going to sleep now.