Let's get the negative thing out of the way: after days of hesitation and inaction and avoidance, I finally texted G. Long story short: all I said was 'Hey G' because I didn't know what else to say; he replied hours later when he'd reached his house in Greece; we made pointless small talk while I judiciously avoided the issue; minutes after we ended the chat, I decided to test the waters and asked if he liked my whatsapp profile picture, to which I received no reply; and hours later, after a great night out with Elissa at Zouk, when I was in bed at 4.45am with a massive headache, I texted him to ask to talk.
It's now 11.53pm. No reply. He hasn't opened whatsapp since he read and ignored my 'do you like my picture' message. I don't believe that he hasn't seen the messages on his locked screen. I think he is avoiding it, probably because he knows what's coming, or he doesn't know what to say, or he wants to delay delivering bad news. Whatever the case is, this is feeling too much like the Germany debacle. I am so sick - so fucking sick - of this awful feeling of waiting for him to reply, this sinking feeling when I get nothing and the hours stretch into days and still nothing, and I have no idea whatsoever when I am going to hear from him.
I am so sick of this. I am so sick of you. I am sick of your shit, sick of the way you make me feel, sick of your silence. Just reply, set up a Skype call, tell each other it's over and then fucking move on. Just let me move on. This pointlessness has gone on for long enough; and of course, 20/20 hindsight tells me that I should have stuck with my impulsive outburst on that Thursday in Changi when I told him that I was done. I should not have taken it back. I should not have gone to the airport. I regret everything. I should not have answered his message in Bali. I should not have wished him happy birthday, one of the first things I did when I landed in London. I should not have remained in contact. Finally, I should not have hoped. My stupid wide-eyed naive hope. My making excuses for his silence. I should have seen it for what it really was: a shit situation, and there was nothing in it for me. I don't know why we even met. I don't know what the point is. There is no point. I wish I had never answered his message on OKCupid. I wasn't even going to. I thought he was short and I couldn't be bothered, but then I changed my mind. Why? I don't even know why, and it's led to months of misery. I just want to forget everything; but since I can't, I want the memories to become absolutely meaningless. Just as well, right? I don't think it means anything to him. If it does, he's doing a poor job of showing it. He said to judge him by his actions and not by words; well, words are cheap, anyone can say sorry, but nothing changes, he is the same, he will always be like this, he will never satisfy my emotional needs, I don't even know what I mean exactly when I said that he understood me intellectually; I don't care, I don't care, his words - his 'I am sorry' - mean nothing because his actions do not back them up at all.
I am done. I'll give him two days; if he doesn't get back to me, I'll bombard him with messages until he does. I want this settled before the New Year. I am not carrying this deadweight with me into 2016.
For the happier things:
Elissa and I met last night, the first time since Christmas Eve (or was it New Year's Eve?) in 2012. We bonded over too-similar situations - the G situation, basically. She has her own G. He is also a shit. I really hope she gets over him because he's so not worth it.
We went to Velvet; it was hip-hop night. I was very very very VERY happy with the music! We had a shot of something gross, then a couple of whiskey cokes, and then we were invited to the DJ booth (Elissa knows the guy that runs the show) and there were free drinks. Towards the end of the night, Elissa poured us a couple of drinks which definitely had some adverse effects on me (and her too, probably).
We were just behind the DJ spinny booth thingy, in between the main guy (I don't know his name) and a girl. The music was awesome, Elissa's drinks were really strong, and so I was totally feeling it. One of the guest DJs kind of hit on me, and in my half-drunk state I tapped my number into his phone. This fact is not at all relevant to what I'm writing; he sent me some picture of a party there and then but I couldn't be bothered to reply. I am totally not interested.
Anyway, last night was probably the most hardcore dancing since the LSE end of dissertation writing party way back in August 2013 (I think it was 22 August). We went to some crappy pub/club place in East London; many of us drank too much and bodies moved in sync with the music and the beats. I was pretty caught up in the moment and the alcohol. Later, when we were all leaving, this super hot guy from Jamaica, whom I got to know a bit towards the end of the programme, said, 'Is that how they teach you to dance in Singapore?'
It is the alcohol. Same thing last night. The right amount of alcohol + hip-hop/R&B = a very happy me. At the back of my mind, I noted how ridiculous it was that I was dancing next to the DJ, facing the crowd; but I just told myself that nobody was going to remember any of it the next day, and so it would be as if none of it happened.
We left at about 3.30am. I got home and felt so sick and gross. I threw up in the kitchen after I showered. Thankfully, it was just transparent liquid (probably the vodka in Elissa's drinks; at least, I think that bottle of liquor was vodka) and I puked right into this trash bag that was in the sink, so I didn't have to clean up too much.
I felt better after that but my head was feeling really, really terrible. I slept with a headache. I woke up with a headache. But it was still a great night.
A couple of guys from Australia - Asian Australians - chatted me up at the start of the night. At first I tried to be nice and entertained them, but I wasn't interested at all, and so when Elissa returned from her smoke break, I used her as an excuse to get a drink and get away from them.
When we re-joined the other two girls that we were with, the guys were still there. I kind of ignored them, even when one of them touched me on my arm to get my attention. I literally did not turn around and pretended nothing happened.
I felt kind of bad. They seemed nice but I'm just not into guys in clubs anymore, including dancing with a random guy in a club. For some reason, nothing about this idea appeals to me at all. This is a complete reversal from how I used to chase this when I was in London. I guess I have grown up.
Another thing: I was texting Dominic a bit as well. The pertinent point isn't the texting; it is that I was a bit under the influence of alcohol, and so I said things that I normally wouldn't say, and don't say. Background: I asked him for his thoughts on when I should return to Cambridge; I was finding it really hard to work on my PhD in Singapore. He said, 'I can't really do proper work when I am at home and so I try to keep my visits short. I can enjoy them more as holidays this way. However I wouldn't mind having you back here, so you shouldn't ask me for advice on this.'
After a couple of drinks, I cheekily replied, 'I hope you more than wouldn't mind having me back there!'
'Of course! I meant if you asked me, it would be cool if you came back earlier.'
And then it began: 'Just cool? Haha you're so cute,' I said.
'Stop embarrassing me! :)'
'Why is it embarrassing? I think you're adorable.' I even added the heart-shaped eyes emoji for good measure.
Blah blah blah; and then I said, 'I do want to go back earlier to see you.'
He told me that he was 'not unhappy' about that, wink.
Sometimes, I still cannot believe that he kissed me. Not just that: that he kissed me almost non-stop for a really long time. I don't know why. It was just a thought that occurred to me.
Friday was spent watching the International Premier Tennis League, which is basically an exhibition tournament. The only reason I went? Roger Federer.
He played 3 out of 5 sets! I got to watch him play men's doubles and mixed doubles live! He also played singles against Wawrinka. He lost the mixed but won the other two.
His forehand is quite honestly one of the most beautiful things in all of existence. I also really enjoyed watching him play doubles; I think he was more solid at the net than from the baseline!
I don't think I can ever tire of watching Roger play live. I had a lot of fun. He is still amazing to watch and I am really glad that Kevin convinced me to go.
Kevin paid for the ticket and he said it was on him. Alas, I can't in good conscience take it because it's 85 dollars, so I will stuff some cash into his bag when we play tennis on Tuesday morning.
Also, Marat Safin played too. He used to be so hot. He is still hot, I think, but he has a bit of a belly now. His serve was MONSTROUS!
I also enjoyed Ivanisevic: monstrous serve, monstrous forehand. Actually, the 'legends' (retired players) were more interesting than the current players. They had more variety.
Okay, I am too tired to write this properly, so quickly: I played tennis on Sunday afternoon with Roy. My hangover was mostly cured by then, so I managed to play, and quite well too. I was hitting my backhand quite well, so it was a good session. Yes, the quality of my tennis sessions is pretty much entirely determined by the state of my backhand on the given day.
Had lunch with the family at Li Bai. I ate a lot. I love dim sum.