And I deserve a little more...
So many days ago, I told Eman that I regretted ever getting into a relationship with J. I thought that I would've preferred keeping our friendship on a strictly platonic but sexually tense level, so that J would never have had a chance to piss all over the memory of us like this.
I'm slowly starting to give in though. Not necessarily cos of anything J's recently done himself -- since he still finds ways to get upset at me -- but because of what's happened thereafter with my other friendships. I hadn't a clue that Iain cared THAT much about me, that he could be arsed to hear me like that. (But again, he's also one of the nicest and most cordial people I know, so I may not have been a special case.)
Jules is also being incredibly supportive, reassuring me that I deserve better. (Which I do!) We had one of the best nights in a really long time last night, as we spent the day shopping and at Matt Murphy's, just discussing everything under the sun. And one of our favourite topics was just how much we love Eman.
What I'm most grateful for out of all this is that I've never felt closer to Eman. If there's anyone in this world that can make you feel wanted and appreciated, it's him. I wondered whether it was a mix of alcohol, a convenient absence of anyone else to chat with, and a newfound empathy from having been in my position before that got us delving into the deepest of philosophical miscellany. Still, it may just be that I've always been so preoccupied with J that I'm only now allowing this friendship to flourish as it should. Imagine loving someone SO much -- without the slightest hint of sexual attraction to confound the relationship (though he's obv super hot) -- and desperately wanting to keep that smile on his/her face, and you might understand just the teeniest bit how much I adore that boy. It's almost a maternal emotion, with this fierce desire to protect him with all that it takes. I'm not quite sure what all these feelings are rooted in, but I can tell you that it's been magnified a million times over, after what transpired between J and me.
As for salvaging the memory of the relationship between J and me, I figure it's worth a shot. But what I fear most from doing this is realising that I'm still madly in love with him. Cos as it stands, I'm thinking back to all that talk about emotional vs. sexual jealousy and how, had he not fallen out of love with me and in whatever-he-calls-it with her, I would've taken him back in a second. Shitty, huh? Ms. B and Jules have already warned me against it, and Eman keeps reassuring me that I deserve better. But if I'm honest, I've never had better, and, at one point and for a long time, he had me on top of the world.
So why do I want to do this? To dredge up old, happy memories to torture myself some more? Well, two reasons: (1) Cos I have to live with him for the next 4 months and I'd prefer not to hate him, and (2) If he's truly sorry about what he did (which it still doesn't sound like at this point), then we, as friends, deserve another chance that requires me remembering that we did share some kind of bond before it all shattered. Here it goes:
1.) Reading HBP to each other in Botanic Garden. We laid on the grass (getting my new Primark shirt dirty!) and alternated reading to each other until we realised neither of us was paying attention to the other. Me giggling randomly what I realised that passersby probably thought J was reading to me cos I couldn't read English!
2.) That first night when we were actually together. I got off the bus and snogged him straightaway. I'm usually pretty PDA-resistant, but all I could think about was being in his arms again and having his lips on mine. You know those cringeworthy, melodramatic moments in the films when the two lovers run toward each other in slow-mo after a long separation? Yeah, it was like that. But real... and the most wonderful I"ve ever felt in my life.
And then I felt it again and again and again. We got to the stoop of Rugby Ave, and J couldn't keep his hands off me or his mouth off my skin. We ventured inside and finished what we'd started the week before. It's like having all your muscles and emotions in synergy with each other, but you're about to burst from frustration, because all you have are these lovely little movements to explain what your words can't even touch. I was in love, and I already knew it then.
Then we laid in bed basically for the rest of the night without a care in the world. I knew J was feeling what I was feeling -- J: "I hate when people throw the L-word around, but..." M: *smirks* "But what...?" -- but the actual words took til the next day to slip through my lips and cement the serendipitousness of us, coming together... like this.
3.) Meeting his family for the first time. Let's face it; I'm crap at making good first impressions, cos I'm always so self-conscious. But that time, in the hospital in Derry, the only thing I was concerned about was if J was ok. I'd have been damned if I let J see anything but hope inside the situation (see: making wishes on purposely plucked eyelashes and the owningest Dumbledore figurine ever), but J's strong and, in the end, didn't seem to need me much at all. I did my best, and I think his family recognised that (including his aunt Caroline who only adores me cos of the crafty ventriloquism J pulled). I remember seeing Bernie on the hospital bed and me adjusting her oxygen mask. J looked at me and pouted with his puppy dog eyes, frustrated at how utterly unfair it all was.
And then it was ok. The direness of the situation died down, and we went to Omagh to visit her again. I met Louise for the first time, and Bernie farted. A lot! Freddy, never to be outdone, joined in on the action, and I was relegated to stifling my laughing fits on J's shoulder.
Despite these tragic circumstances, we still had our bit of fun. Teaching J how to Su Doku, conversations in the canteen with Simy, and some (completely inappropriate) hospital hanky-panky to relieve the tension... It's always nice to stand by your man when he needs it most.
4.) Taking care of J when he was sick. All of a sudden, his immune system collapsed, and I got to play Ms. Nightingale again. I remember him asking me how many tablets to take -- trusting me with his health -- and him slurping the chicken soup as he was bedridden between the orange sheets. What sticks in my head most is when I tried to cook him a proper Ulster fry. He walked into the kitchen, and my attempt at making him happy reduced his vocabulary singularly to "Awww"s. All those times I felt unappreciated by Patrick -- well J could've shown him how it's done.
5.) Gasp! The realisation that I'm semi-smart. We were laying in bed one night talking, when J made a reference to something exploding. I referenced Vesuvius, and he cooed unexpectedly. I, baffled, lay there while he pulled me close and huggled me, impressed by my one-off Wikipedic moment. (See also my mention of Hearts being at the top of the league.)
6.) All those late and way-too-long conversations at the Chinese interweb cafe talking to J, including the token moment when he opted to embarrass me and showed his wang on webcam. So many nights when I had to be away, we spent together anyway. It was the kind of love where we couldn't bear to be apart any longer than we had to.
7.) One night on Castlefin Road. We stayed up way too late one night -- my last night in the Derg, I think -- and goofed a bit about. J cooked a midnight curry, and I, acting as the human trash compactor, slopped off the last bits. Talking at 2am when everyone else was asleep... It was so nice. We were in a silly little mood, and J giggled over and over at my super unscary face. We decided to take a shower in that wee stall of theirs. Cramped and uberclose, we had some golden moments, as J muffled his laugh when I tried again to contort my face into an expression of intimidation.
8.) Two souls entwined... The final day that I left Belfy, J and I lay in bed holding each other... silent. That is, until both of us randomly said "I wish..." at the exact same time. I don't even remember how each of us finished our sentences, but I do remember thinking, as we giggled together, that we were made for each other. Our relationship was insane, but we were in sync. That's why I rather approach this breakup with denial and false bravado than to let him know that I regret ever letting him get away. I should never have left.
9.) That video I made of him the last day I was there. The whole time I was with Patrick, he never bothered to learn a single word of Khmer. J mastered 4 phrases. As I captured a clip of J's silky sweet lilt, saying "Don't do that," "Stop," and "Oh crap, the frog leaps," I fell in love with him all over again. Which was unfortunate, given how I was leaving that day.
10.) Talking to Leigh that first time in the chat. I'm not usually that funny, but I drained the bank account that day from my reserves of wit. J did his :*) thing, actually proud of the impression I made. I surprised myself with how I could be so casual with someone I once viewed with such jealousy and enmity. Thank god I made my peace with her.
11.) The long bus ride to Omagh, when we chatted about the inconsequential and the philosophical. Have you ever felt so comfortable you felt like you could say anything to that person without fear of judgment? That's how we were. Fucking shit that I don't have that any more and that J won't bother to confide in me again.
12.) Scrabble. Only geriatrics find fun in rearranging lettered tiles, right? Not when you play with J and Iain. Along with Iain's ROFLcopter-y "Kabblah" verbal snafu, J induced loads of belly laughs with his invented vocabulary. I remember sitting there, watching him with his forehead muscles tense and his bottom lip pouting outward and never finding him cuter. He was always so adorable when he was concentrating hard.
13.) That lump-in-my-throat, knot-in-my-tummy kind of missingness. I tend to be the type of person who doesn't miss people much. But when I made th permanent move to Curzon and J wasn't there, I literally ached for him. Headed back from the Derg, as soon as he rounded the corner onto Curzon, I ran out the front door and pounced. Why I felt the need to attack him with kisses is beyond me. Ask the stupid little cupid that set this whole tragedy in motion.
At this end of this all, I'm finding that I only love him more than I should and hate him more than I would. We had our fair share of shittiness, but none of that could compare to the joy I felt when our hearts finally collided. He threw all of that way, cos he couldn't handle the distance. :( When he broke up with me, he said, "It's not about you." I know. The blame falls squarely on your shoulders, J.
And now, I see Niamh's and his relationship headed for the same trajectory. For her sake, I hope it turns out all right. Even as karma conspired with our crappy pasts to kick me right in the bum, I still remember what Eman said the night before I left: "I've never seen him as happy as he is when he's with you." Bah. Fuck it all again.
To be continued... maybe. :(
I'm slowly starting to give in though. Not necessarily cos of anything J's recently done himself -- since he still finds ways to get upset at me -- but because of what's happened thereafter with my other friendships. I hadn't a clue that Iain cared THAT much about me, that he could be arsed to hear me like that. (But again, he's also one of the nicest and most cordial people I know, so I may not have been a special case.)
Jules is also being incredibly supportive, reassuring me that I deserve better. (Which I do!) We had one of the best nights in a really long time last night, as we spent the day shopping and at Matt Murphy's, just discussing everything under the sun. And one of our favourite topics was just how much we love Eman.
What I'm most grateful for out of all this is that I've never felt closer to Eman. If there's anyone in this world that can make you feel wanted and appreciated, it's him. I wondered whether it was a mix of alcohol, a convenient absence of anyone else to chat with, and a newfound empathy from having been in my position before that got us delving into the deepest of philosophical miscellany. Still, it may just be that I've always been so preoccupied with J that I'm only now allowing this friendship to flourish as it should. Imagine loving someone SO much -- without the slightest hint of sexual attraction to confound the relationship (though he's obv super hot) -- and desperately wanting to keep that smile on his/her face, and you might understand just the teeniest bit how much I adore that boy. It's almost a maternal emotion, with this fierce desire to protect him with all that it takes. I'm not quite sure what all these feelings are rooted in, but I can tell you that it's been magnified a million times over, after what transpired between J and me.
As for salvaging the memory of the relationship between J and me, I figure it's worth a shot. But what I fear most from doing this is realising that I'm still madly in love with him. Cos as it stands, I'm thinking back to all that talk about emotional vs. sexual jealousy and how, had he not fallen out of love with me and in whatever-he-calls-it with her, I would've taken him back in a second. Shitty, huh? Ms. B and Jules have already warned me against it, and Eman keeps reassuring me that I deserve better. But if I'm honest, I've never had better, and, at one point and for a long time, he had me on top of the world.
So why do I want to do this? To dredge up old, happy memories to torture myself some more? Well, two reasons: (1) Cos I have to live with him for the next 4 months and I'd prefer not to hate him, and (2) If he's truly sorry about what he did (which it still doesn't sound like at this point), then we, as friends, deserve another chance that requires me remembering that we did share some kind of bond before it all shattered. Here it goes:
1.) Reading HBP to each other in Botanic Garden. We laid on the grass (getting my new Primark shirt dirty!) and alternated reading to each other until we realised neither of us was paying attention to the other. Me giggling randomly what I realised that passersby probably thought J was reading to me cos I couldn't read English!
2.) That first night when we were actually together. I got off the bus and snogged him straightaway. I'm usually pretty PDA-resistant, but all I could think about was being in his arms again and having his lips on mine. You know those cringeworthy, melodramatic moments in the films when the two lovers run toward each other in slow-mo after a long separation? Yeah, it was like that. But real... and the most wonderful I"ve ever felt in my life.
And then I felt it again and again and again. We got to the stoop of Rugby Ave, and J couldn't keep his hands off me or his mouth off my skin. We ventured inside and finished what we'd started the week before. It's like having all your muscles and emotions in synergy with each other, but you're about to burst from frustration, because all you have are these lovely little movements to explain what your words can't even touch. I was in love, and I already knew it then.
Then we laid in bed basically for the rest of the night without a care in the world. I knew J was feeling what I was feeling -- J: "I hate when people throw the L-word around, but..." M: *smirks* "But what...?" -- but the actual words took til the next day to slip through my lips and cement the serendipitousness of us, coming together... like this.
3.) Meeting his family for the first time. Let's face it; I'm crap at making good first impressions, cos I'm always so self-conscious. But that time, in the hospital in Derry, the only thing I was concerned about was if J was ok. I'd have been damned if I let J see anything but hope inside the situation (see: making wishes on purposely plucked eyelashes and the owningest Dumbledore figurine ever), but J's strong and, in the end, didn't seem to need me much at all. I did my best, and I think his family recognised that (including his aunt Caroline who only adores me cos of the crafty ventriloquism J pulled). I remember seeing Bernie on the hospital bed and me adjusting her oxygen mask. J looked at me and pouted with his puppy dog eyes, frustrated at how utterly unfair it all was.
And then it was ok. The direness of the situation died down, and we went to Omagh to visit her again. I met Louise for the first time, and Bernie farted. A lot! Freddy, never to be outdone, joined in on the action, and I was relegated to stifling my laughing fits on J's shoulder.
Despite these tragic circumstances, we still had our bit of fun. Teaching J how to Su Doku, conversations in the canteen with Simy, and some (completely inappropriate) hospital hanky-panky to relieve the tension... It's always nice to stand by your man when he needs it most.
4.) Taking care of J when he was sick. All of a sudden, his immune system collapsed, and I got to play Ms. Nightingale again. I remember him asking me how many tablets to take -- trusting me with his health -- and him slurping the chicken soup as he was bedridden between the orange sheets. What sticks in my head most is when I tried to cook him a proper Ulster fry. He walked into the kitchen, and my attempt at making him happy reduced his vocabulary singularly to "Awww"s. All those times I felt unappreciated by Patrick -- well J could've shown him how it's done.
5.) Gasp! The realisation that I'm semi-smart. We were laying in bed one night talking, when J made a reference to something exploding. I referenced Vesuvius, and he cooed unexpectedly. I, baffled, lay there while he pulled me close and huggled me, impressed by my one-off Wikipedic moment. (See also my mention of Hearts being at the top of the league.)
6.) All those late and way-too-long conversations at the Chinese interweb cafe talking to J, including the token moment when he opted to embarrass me and showed his wang on webcam. So many nights when I had to be away, we spent together anyway. It was the kind of love where we couldn't bear to be apart any longer than we had to.
7.) One night on Castlefin Road. We stayed up way too late one night -- my last night in the Derg, I think -- and goofed a bit about. J cooked a midnight curry, and I, acting as the human trash compactor, slopped off the last bits. Talking at 2am when everyone else was asleep... It was so nice. We were in a silly little mood, and J giggled over and over at my super unscary face. We decided to take a shower in that wee stall of theirs. Cramped and uberclose, we had some golden moments, as J muffled his laugh when I tried again to contort my face into an expression of intimidation.
8.) Two souls entwined... The final day that I left Belfy, J and I lay in bed holding each other... silent. That is, until both of us randomly said "I wish..." at the exact same time. I don't even remember how each of us finished our sentences, but I do remember thinking, as we giggled together, that we were made for each other. Our relationship was insane, but we were in sync. That's why I rather approach this breakup with denial and false bravado than to let him know that I regret ever letting him get away. I should never have left.
9.) That video I made of him the last day I was there. The whole time I was with Patrick, he never bothered to learn a single word of Khmer. J mastered 4 phrases. As I captured a clip of J's silky sweet lilt, saying "Don't do that," "Stop," and "Oh crap, the frog leaps," I fell in love with him all over again. Which was unfortunate, given how I was leaving that day.
10.) Talking to Leigh that first time in the chat. I'm not usually that funny, but I drained the bank account that day from my reserves of wit. J did his :*) thing, actually proud of the impression I made. I surprised myself with how I could be so casual with someone I once viewed with such jealousy and enmity. Thank god I made my peace with her.
11.) The long bus ride to Omagh, when we chatted about the inconsequential and the philosophical. Have you ever felt so comfortable you felt like you could say anything to that person without fear of judgment? That's how we were. Fucking shit that I don't have that any more and that J won't bother to confide in me again.
12.) Scrabble. Only geriatrics find fun in rearranging lettered tiles, right? Not when you play with J and Iain. Along with Iain's ROFLcopter-y "Kabblah" verbal snafu, J induced loads of belly laughs with his invented vocabulary. I remember sitting there, watching him with his forehead muscles tense and his bottom lip pouting outward and never finding him cuter. He was always so adorable when he was concentrating hard.
13.) That lump-in-my-throat, knot-in-my-tummy kind of missingness. I tend to be the type of person who doesn't miss people much. But when I made th permanent move to Curzon and J wasn't there, I literally ached for him. Headed back from the Derg, as soon as he rounded the corner onto Curzon, I ran out the front door and pounced. Why I felt the need to attack him with kisses is beyond me. Ask the stupid little cupid that set this whole tragedy in motion.
At this end of this all, I'm finding that I only love him more than I should and hate him more than I would. We had our fair share of shittiness, but none of that could compare to the joy I felt when our hearts finally collided. He threw all of that way, cos he couldn't handle the distance. :( When he broke up with me, he said, "It's not about you." I know. The blame falls squarely on your shoulders, J.
And now, I see Niamh's and his relationship headed for the same trajectory. For her sake, I hope it turns out all right. Even as karma conspired with our crappy pasts to kick me right in the bum, I still remember what Eman said the night before I left: "I've never seen him as happy as he is when he's with you." Bah. Fuck it all again.
To be continued... maybe. :(
posted by mols @ 10:49 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home