But I ended up deleting all of that and sending only the part where I said I thought the massage thing was inappropriate. I find it awkward to convey these things over text, and I thought it would be better to do it in person. Ugh. This means that I'm going to have to spend my Thursday night with someone that I'm not attracted to, to tell him that I'm not attracted to him, when I could spend the same time working on my PhD. Great.
But I would like to remain friends because he's good at tennis; in fact, that was the whole reason I asked for his number. So I don't want to come across as too harsh or too curt or too mean; basically, I need to handle it well, like an adult, be honest but without hurting his feelings. Yeah. Great. Can't wait.
I read a grand total of one article today. At least I managed to spend some time in the library, right? I went over to Azi's at 3pm for tea with Edward, Daffy and two of their Singaporean friends. I flaked on them the last time we wanted to meet; I was super busy preparing for Essex, and I wasn't aware that the meeting was confirmed. But I felt really bad anyway; I hate flaky people and so I was not at all pleased with myself that I flaked.
It was a nice afternoon, so I was glad that I went over. Azi made crepes, which were yummy, and I had some nutella with them, which was decadent and delicious. Delicious. I bought friands from Fitzbillies and brought them over - delicious as well. I wasn't supposed to eat desserts today as I had a brownie with vanilla yesterday at the Rainbow, but fuck it.
Have I already mused about the essential-ness of chocolate? I can do without sex; I've done without sex for nearly two years. But I cannot do without chocolate. The very thought of not having chocolate for two years strikes fear into my heart, makes me want to weep, drains life of all colour, robs it of all meaning. There is simply no way in hell I can go two years without any chocolate whatsoever. It really is my biggest weakness. I could probably do without non-chocolatey desserts, but I've got to have chocolate. I've just got to. It is one of the best things about life.
I'm going to cheat again on Friday as I will in London with Ivan for a NUS alumni event. I hope he knows where we can get good cake...
I was supposed to meet this dude but he cancelled, begging sickness, and asked to reschedue. Okay, cool. I ended up playing loads of tennis with Jay, so his cancelling was great for me. We played from about 6 to almost 8pm, when the sun had set almost completely and the courts were shrouded in a bourgeoning darkness. The tiny amount of light that filtered through was barely enough to illuminate the ball. It makes you concentrate harder, but hitting the ball also becomes a bit of a crapshoot.
In any event, we played a set. I won it 7-5 despite trailing 1-3. He started off strong, but his play became erratic as the set went on. He basically made loads of errors and I won on that. I didn't do anything special.
This is a problem, I think. This is my problem. I am competitive and a perfectionist. I don't just want to win; I want to win properly by hitting shots that are hit correctly, with the right technique. The only time that I don't think about the technique is when I'm just popping in my second serve. But for everything else, I have to hit the ball right; I can't just tap it over the net. I apologise when I mis-hit the ball and it lands in the service box, or when I don't time my backhand right (which is 50% of the time) and it drops into the service box, or when I go for a slice but it becomes a drop shot because my slice sucks. 'Just own it,' Ivan said, when he couldn't reach my """drop shot""". But I can't, because it's a wrong shot, it's all wrong, and it's not just about winning; it's about winning properly.
I guess this is why I lose more often than not. Meh.
English Literature Academic finally texted back: 'Sunday is good.'
Okay. I'll just say later, 'Great. Let's fix something on Saturday.' (No, I haven't replied.)
Is this karma paying me back for my shitty texting response time? At least I'm a bit of a decent human being about it; I always send something back on the day itself, even if it is to tell the person that I will confirm later. That's only polite, is it not?
Anyway, I'm curious to see how the third meeting goes. I suggested to meet in the afternoon because 1) I don't feel like working on a Sunday afternoon and 2) maybe it would help the vibe, somehow. The weather will be quite good, so I may suggest going for a walk.
I had a short chat with Matt after tennis. It was past 8pm and all the lights in Fitzbillies were still on, which was unusual because they usually close by 7pm. I saw him in there, rapped on the glass, asked why he was still around.
They're deep cleaning, he said. Deep-cleaning while having some wine.
We talked for maybe three minutes. It struck me later that, during those three minutes, the thought of saying something like 'Let's catch up soon' didn't occur to me. Not only that: I didn't feel like it was a wasted opportunity either.
I really have reached a point where I'm happy to leave things as they are, have I not? This maturity is rather strange.
My right leg is currently rather sore.
I had such a terrible night yesterday. I couldn't fall asleep until after 4am, which caused me to wake up at 11am today which is an utter disgrace. I'd had too much coffee. I hope I can sleep well tonight.