Here's a twist of irony: I am more or less going to meet G tomorrow, but all I can think about is Adrian. I think pointless things, stupid things, melancholic things, things that induce hazy dreams in me that don't make sense and which make me feel sad when I wake up. Things like how it would've been nice if I didn't need to rush back to the city on Friday, how it would have been nice if he didn't need to rush back to his village on Monday night, how I was looking forward to going to this cool cocktail bar on Monday but he talked me out of it on the account of my cold, and we ended up at Pancake Parlour which was even nicer. Things like, 'Look at your face; you totally want to go in' when we were outside Pancake Parlour and I really wanted to have a pancake but I hesitated at the door because I didn't want to get fat. Things like his amusement watching me stress out over which pancake to order (tiramisu! buttered walnuts!) and saying, 'We can get both if you want.' Things like how he took out a 50-dollar bill, saying, 'I got this' when I took out my wallet to get the bill; you barely ate anything, he said. Save the money for the Uber.
He'd said that he had to leave at 8.30pm as he'd promised to see his cousin before she flew back to Sydney the next day. He ended up leaving an hour later.
He brings out a sense of vulnerability in me that I like to pretend doesn't exist. He makes me laugh too, obviously. Most of our conversation consists of trading of sarcastic insults; he especially likes to make fun of my Federer fangirlism and, after tennis on Friday, my out-of-control forehand (though I swear it was just on that particular day that it was so bad). It was very awkward when he complimented me, partly because it was incongruous in light of all the non-complimentary things that he'd said, and partly because I didn't know whether to take him seriously, and so I didn't.
But still. He was my safety net, a comforting security blanket, four years ago when my life was thrown into chaos. Perhaps the memory of that lingers still, wafts and drifts into my subconsciousness when I'm with him, making me feel some slight sense of security that I perhaps shouldn't feel. After all, 2012 didn't really repeat itself; it merely resurfaced partially, clearing enough of the sea of old memories to breathe in some fresh air, but ultimately bogged down by the pull of the undercurrent of elapsed time. After all, too, it wasn't like we talked about anything serious, or that the banter was endless, or that I'm suddenly in love with him.
Nonetheless, there is a sense of the unfulfilled, of something lost due to the lack of time, my holding back, I don't know. If I hadn't got scared and cut off the hug; if I hadn't just ran off...if I had expressed to him just how much he'd once meant to me.