anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,

A Moment of Weakness

Save for a good morning and early afternoon, my Sunday was a steaming pile of shit. I was in the law faculty from 2.30pm to 9.55pm and I somehow managed to fail to finish my literature review. Amazing. Amazing. I am amazing. That is, amazingly stupid.

Anyway. I shall work a few miracles later today after research training at 9am (on doing literature review) and Professor Kramer's lecture at 4pm. This will be fun.


I went for a run in the morning in pants and a tank top. I regretted not wearing a jacket immediately when I felt my exposed arms nearly turning to ice. I was unduly surprised to find myself rather sweaty when I was finished. It felt good to feel like I was dying. Next time, though, I will definitely wear a jacket of sorts.


Dominic told me that he was making risotto for lunch for some college friends. I decided to pop by en route to the library to witness the spectacle of it.

To put this in context: in his message, he informed me that the last time he cooked risotto was in 2010. More importantly, this is the same guy who told me when we first met that he doesn't cook because he has a very high standard when it comes to food and his own cooking does not meet that standard. Ergo, Dominic making risotto was an event not to be missed.

I wanted to stay for five minutes but ended up staying for half an hour. The only other person I knew was Wei-Yun and we spoke about Chinese and Taiwanese food in Chinese for a while. Someone made an ang moh version of the bao and it was pretty good. The risotto was also not terrible. It was actually not bad. Before I ate it, I jokingly asked if he'd tried it and if he was still okay; he said he tasted it "7 minutes ago" (on Friday, he informed me that he was going to be six minutes late) and he was fine.

That was fun. The rest of the day after that was not. I can't wait to fall asleep.


I didn't even want to write this entry because I am incredibly tired, but this thing has been on my mind the whole day. This "thing" refers to my moment of weakness last night while texting G that led me to do something that I told myself I wouldn't do.

I told him that I missed him.

And I really wish I hadn't.

In my defence, he destroyed whatever flimsy walls I half-heartedly put up as a form of lip service to my rational side when he wrote, "Your shy smile is awfully cute." Granted, too, he did immediately reply, saying, "Hey. I miss you too." The "hey" enhanced what came after; he said that a lot, and in a softer tone, whenever he switched to affectionate mode. I could hear him say that in my head; I could see the tender look on his face as he said that; and I imagined how he would look at me with a smile, as if letting me in on a secret, and how he would then take me in his arms and hold me close as he says, "I miss you too."

Yet, I feel as if I gave away the game. I expected completely that he wouldn't text despite saying "we will talk more tomorrow" and I was right; but even apart from this, my previous pretence to him that I was fine without him, that I wasn't thinking about him all the time, that I was perfectly fine being detached and talking once in a blue moon, was only possible because I kept my true feelings at bay. I told myself that I wouldn't be the first to admit that I missed him because I wanted to at least still have that - a shred of my dignity, pretending to be quite aloof so that he would come looking for me, taking my feelings out of this so that he wouldn't think I was needy or weak. I don't know. And now, I've let the cat out of the bag. He knows for sure that I still have feelings for him. Whatever has been implied over the past few weeks is now real and concrete.

I am afraid of what he will, or will not, do with it. I am afraid of his flip-flopping, that he would withdraw again, that my telling him that I missed him brought the reality of the situation to the fore once more and he's thinking, What the hell am I doing? I am afraid that I will be disappointed - hurt, crushed, rejected. I am afraid that he wouldn't want to meet anymore.

All this sounds perfectly ridiculous. It is. That is also the state of my feelings. But I can't let go. I miss him. I want him. There are so many things that I want to tell him - the mundane, the important, the heartfelt - but I am muted by the distance between us, distance that our patchy communication and uncertain status elongate and deepen. I am fine with being in this state of limbo as long as he still feels the same way; but there is something somewhat perverse about the selfish condition of my feelings for him. I should not want him to be stuck like I am; I should want him to be happy, however he achieves that, with or without me.

But that's the thing. I am selfish, and so are my feelings. He's what I want. I want him to be happy with ME, not someone else. The fact that this is all so presently futile makes me quite sad. It also makes me wish that I hadn't said that I missed him. I am afraid that it served unwittingly as a catalyst for him to re-evaluate all this, whatever it is, and then I will be left in the lurch.

I hope not. I don't know. I am tired, too tired. I'm going to bed.
Tags: cambridge, dominic, friends, g, love, personal, phd, running

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