Jekyll and Hyde and who knows who else

Maybe we should stop doing things after therapy. Just thought, you know.

Nahhh. We should continue doing that. After all, we’d already be in the capital then. Why not take the opportunity to do fun stuff, right?

So anyway, this week’s homework from therapy was to speak more kindly to ourself. Because, why are we such a good friend to others, but so critical of ourself? Take note of the critical voice. When it comes up, train it to speak more kindly to us.

So Instagram targeted a stand-up comedy ad to me, and I thought cool, let’s ask this current match to go with. Another guy? Well, yes, another guy, but I’m not rushing into anything with him. In fact, we matched when my bio stated I wanted nothing but a dinner buddy, and that’s what I wanted to cultivate with him. Let’s try actually being friends with guys, you know?

So I asked him. And I thought to myself that, whatever his response, I’m still going to the thing. I’m taking myself on a date regardless.

I never heard back from him. No biggie. Meanwhile I matched with a girl. It was an accident. I mean, I’m maybe bisexual, but I’m heteroromantic. So I was just looking at the girls but did not mean to swipe any of them because I didn’t want to be unfair to them, you know? But then she looks super cool? And there’s a function where you can compliment people’s photos or things they put on their bio and I thought hey I’ll just pay a little compliment, maybe make her day, and be on my merry way.

How was I supposed to know that when you compliment someone, it auto swipes right?

Anyway of course she said hi and we talked. In a very short order she concluded that I was straight. This was how it went: she asked me why I thought I was bi-curious. Because I could imagine sleeping with girls, but I would still want to build a life with a man.

What do you need to build a life? Safety. Physical, emotional, intellectual, sexual, spiritual, and financial safety.

Then I think you are straight. What you want in order to build a life? You can get that with a girl. Since you want a man, that makes you straight.

Which makes complete sense to me. So now we’re just in a kinda odd situation where we’re not headed towards dating, but neither did we say we would or wouldn’t be friends. But anyway when the guy went radio silent, I thought eh, I might as well ask her.

The interesting thing was I hesitated to ask her. Like, the whole process of getting to know a person and becoming friends with them – I was loath to do it. Which made me question myself: why was I unwilling to do so with a girl when I would be so excited to go out with men? Clearly the difference there is that I hoped that the situation with the men might evolve into a relationship, or maybe, at the very least, that I might get sex out of it. Or bike rides, as in the case of some of them.

Which was a horrible realisation, right? I am that entitled dude who invests time on another person solely for the possibility of sex or a romantic liaison with them. As it turned out, I was the fuckboi?

This led me to question what it was that I wanted out of trying to connect with people. Or, if we’re being honest here, what is it that I wanted from trying to connect with men? Certainly it’s not their friendship that I was after, and that’s not right. How would you build any lasting, meaningful connection if you’re not first friends with them? I had been trying to take the shortcut all this while, and of course that wouldn’t work.

I guess this is what they mean when they say, if you keep getting emotionally unavailable people in your life, check your own emotional availability. Cause it might be that you yourself are not emotionally available. Or perhaps, it might actually be you who isn’t emotionally available.

Hey, it’s me. I’m the problem, it’s me. Okay that’s not talking to myself unkindly, that’s just Taytay’s song. Anyway, at this point, of course my instict was to isolate myself and shun all human contact, right? But they also say that if you’re trying to grow and heal, sometimes that entails retraining your instincts that were honed in survival mode. So I invited her to dinner and the stand-up afterwards.

I was very slightly disappointed but not surprised that she had other plans. The invitation had been very last minute – which was another hallmark of emotional unavailability, haha. But I digress.

So anyway I went to the stand-up alone. Which felt pretty awkward because everyone else had company. I didn’t feel pathetic about being alone – that had never been my issue – but I felt awkward because everyone else were very happily chatting to each other and there was me just sitting there. I was actually trying to regulate myself post-therapy cause, let’s face it, after the past few posts, could my session have been light? I guess if I had a friend they would have distracted me from my inner turmoil.

I guess it was a good thing because I needed to get used to feeling my feelings so that I could process them. The therapy reels also take about being completely present in your life, and I wondered what that meant and how to do it. So I checked in with my voices to see how they were taking the situation. The 8yo? She was doing cartwheels. Just so happy to be taken out to something that we enjoy. Cartwheels. I can’t even cartwheel in real life – that’s how happy she was.

Someone was sad that I did not have any friends there with me tonight. Like, my friends all don’t share my interests, or they’re too scared of things I like, or too busy, or whatever. The point is out of all the people in my life, usually none of them could ever or sometimes would ever participate in things I like, and that thought saddened me. I don’t know if that was the teenage me or the adult me, but I was sad about being friendless in that sense. It reminded me of my uni days, which I actually complained on here in the earliest posts without any self-awareness at all, that poor, sweet child.

That made me feel oppressed because I suddenly felt, very keenly, that I did not belong anywhere. I looked at the people around me, extroverted, expat, clubbing type of people and I recalled how out of place I felt when I followed Ms. Irreverent clubbing. Then I thought about the other people, about what they believe in life, how some of them unquestioning and some are fanatical about the way things are and again I felt like an odd duck. It just seems like I don’t fit in anywhere. I am always either too much or not enough.

And don’t get me wrong. I am very proud about being me and being different in this way, but I think I’ll have to admit that sometimes it gets quite lonely. And what sometimes enrages me is the thought that I can’t be that unique? Somehow I am always either too much or not enough. Why do I struggle to find my people so much?

So then the comedy started and I was diverted for a turn. Until, that was, the final comic was doing a curtain call of everyone who participated in his crowdwork… and he did not mention me. Do you know what that felt like? Like if you were nominated for an award and didn’t win but you still need to clap enthusiastically and gracefully for the winner and fellow nominees. I mean, as I was walking to my car after the show some attendees said that I was the funniest one of the crowd, and that validated me for a bit. Like, I wasn’t just imagining that my contribution to the show was worthwhile. So why did he mention everyone else but me?

And here’s the main point about the post. Haha, such a roundabout way we’ve gone, haven’t we? The main point is, I was sad about what happened. I felt slighted, I felt unchosen, and I was sad about that. So one side of me was trying to be graceful about it and accept that we were sad, but another side was like, oh come on. You can’t seriously be sad about that? He probably didn’t think anything about it. He was running out of time, and he wanted to end the show. And like, what was even significant about it? In the grand scheme of things, why would you be sad about such a small thing?

I realised that I was not holding space for myself so I tried to be better. But of course that was still too much and intellectualisation started kicking in. I had the situation analysed in very short order: him not mentioning me was triggering because it made me feel unchosen, easily forgotten, and invisible. Making an effort to move away from intellectualisation to actually sit with the feelings, Yes, sweetie, I’m sorry he made you feel that way. It is sad, and it’s okay to feel sad. Go ahead, take the time to feel sad.

Isn’t it a little pathetic to be so sad about this measly thing? Come onnnnnnnnn.

No, no. Come on. We are holding space for us.

And… I don’t know what the ending is. Did I process that sadness? I don’t know. Maybe not? Because I seem to still be dysregulated?

Maybe I’ll end on this note: it’s difficult to speak kindly to ourself now, but you’re so brave for trying. Thank you Ms. Critical – you’re always so analytical, so practical, and you’re definitely a valuable team player in situations where we need to make practical, analytical decisions, but you can take a step back when it comes to our emotion. And Ms. Compassionate, good job for keeping standing up. It’s not easy for you to show up when another side tries to speak over you, but you’re patient with them, and you try to give them space while guiding them along. You’re a rock star! Good job team!

Clean break

Honestly I can’t figure it out.

What happened? Why did I suddenly stop being okay on my own? I used to be a homebody who binged on TV series and that was my entire life. I was okay on my own.

But now?

I don’t know what happened but I suddenly rejected being alone. I want company. I want someone who would listen to what happened during my day. I want someone to tell me things will be okay. I want someone to be by my side as I fight the world. I want kisses. I want someone to hold me as I fall asleep.

I need to be okay on my own. I need to be enough by myself, and then I’ll be okay. I know that in theory. But how to I do that?

I don’t even know what’s wrong with my life. Nothing is wrong. Looking from the outside, isn’t my life perfect? Little Miss Pampered with a great job and supportive friends?

But why does it keep feeling like my heart is being stabbed? Stabbed stabbed stabbed stabbed?

I went years being an avoidant, not giving my heart to anyone. And now I’m seemingly giving my heart to just about anyone I bump to. I know that’s not smart and I’m trying to be smarter but I can’t seem to help it. And I just keep breaking my heart.

Honestly I’m tired of it. I mean, what’s great about people anyway? What’s great about men? Cause, let’s face it, we’re talking about men here, aren’t we? They’re really more trouble than they’re worth. You look at all the men who expect their ladies to be their moms or their maids, and I definitely don’t want that. Then worse, you get someone like my stepdad who seems great but has been emotionally abusive to Mother for years. Since the beginning, actually, I think. Only I didn’t understand things back then. And now?

I don’t know. I went back home last weekend and I found it hard to even look at Dad. How could he live his life so serenely while doing that to Mother? I no longer know if he was completely oblivious and just reacting to his unhealed trauma or if he’s actually malicious. I don’t know anymore.

I have a deep fear that for all my “self-awareness” that I’d end up choosing another Dad as my partner, the same way Mother didn’t realise she was choosing her father incarnate all those years ago.

Argh. Where is all this coming from? Is this what they all call being “triggered”? Am I not writing from a place of clarity but is just blindly reacting to being triggered?

I wanted to note as well that last night I finally said goodbye to Mr. Firefighter. Perhaps that’s what’s going on. I mean, before this I had already told him to keep his distance, but then he was still there, you know, and I was still as obsessed with him as ever. I was just hounding Instagram obsessing after his every story and that little green dot that signals when he was online. Like, what kind of stepping back was that? I wanted to keep a distance, but I was also entertaining the fantasy that he was as miserable as I was and that he would do something about it. Did I want him to chase me? I don’t think so. I think I’m being truthful when I say I don’t want him because he’s made it clear that he was emotionally unavailable, but I wanted him to be miserable about not choosing me. His actions hinted that it was as difficult for him to let go as it was for me, and as much as I wanted to have a clean break, I couldn’t let go of him because the way he seemed to be hurting fed something in me.

I don’t know what it fed. I wondered if it had something to do about the fact that biodad left. The way I entertained notions that Mr. Abuser was pining after me before. The way I wanted to remain friends with Mr. Strategist after our breakup. With these two men, the breaks were cleaner because they cut off the ties quite cleanly so I was forced to just pick up the pieces of my heart and move on. But Mr. Firefighter lingered…

…until I was forced to take things into my own hands and decide to finally make the clean break.

Wait. So yes I was miserable about it, but in the grand scheme of things, this is growth, isn’t it? It’s always been difficult for me to let go of people and I keep letting them stay in my life one way or another until they left on their own accord, but this time, although I languished for a bit, ultimately, I took things into my own hands, didn’t I?

Huh.

Interesting.

I mean, the hurt is still there but I’m feeling better, too. Empowered. Because Mr. Firefighter – bless his sweet soul – is not good for me in the long run and we’re just not compatible. Now, realising that and taking actions about it are two different things, and at least in this case with Mr. Firefighter, I actually steeled my heart and took the necessary step instead of hoping that he would end things for us both.

I still don’t know what his lingering was feeding, but I know it’s not good for me and I’ve stepped away from it. My heart is still hurting from it, but I’m feeling stronger, too, all of a sudden. Liberated.

Okay now that we cleared that up, can we get back to work?

Hang on. Can you speak kindly to yourself? That was a difficult decision you took, sweetheart, and it took a lot of courage and strength and I’m so proud of you. Everything was confusing and hurting but you didn’t give up and you kept trying to find your way. I am so, so proud of you. You keep going. One day at a time. We got this.

When I was a sugar baby

So this guy from Tinder offered me 7k a month to be his sugar baby. He said he envisioned a partnership of about 3-4 years. I thought about it and decided that it was a good deal. For one thing, he’s freaking cute. For another, it would save me the trouble of finding a guy to play with. Not only will he sleep with me regularly, he will also pay me!

The three people in my life who knew about his proposition were nonplussed. Ms Martyr helped me weigh the pros and cons and decided that it sounds safe enough. Ms Irreverent didn’t even bat an eye – apparently this isn’t the stupidest thing I’ve done and she has ceased to be surprised by anything I do anymore, which I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Lil Sis is just excited about how she will get to spend the extra income, certain that she’s the one getting paid while I did all the work.

I had no qualms about our arrangement from any moral standpoint; I’m single, he’s a divorcé, and if he has two other sugar babies besides, he’s completely open about it. All parties involved are adults, consenting, and we’re not hurting anyone. I was way more worried about the practical (i.e. physical health) side of things, but he and his harem get tested regularly, and all his ladies have implanon. Once we finalised our arrangment, he would pay for mine as well.

What a funny thing the idea of self is. Before him, it never occurred to me that I could be playing the sugar game. Cause, you know, the way I look, the way I talk, the way I see things, just, my entire everything. In short, I don’t fit the quintessential sugar baby profile. When he approached me, although he admitted that he was approaching ladies on Tinder randomly, what a confidence boost it was. That I could be a career woman and a pampered sugar baby.

For all that he was so very enticing, I still approached him with caution. After all, he made it plenty clear that if I joined his harem, he expects me to not only join in foursomes with him the fellow sugar babies, but that once in a while he wants me to be the main course in threesomes with a good buddy, with whom he will occassionally swap sugar babies. This means that to be safe, I’ll need to see blood test results of his entire harem and his buddy’s, too.

Was I okay with such a proposition? Well, it’s a little shocking, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit excited by it. Two cute men to play with and 84k a year. My head was definitely turned. In the middle of everything I sent my car for a scheduled service and they told me I should think about replacing the car’s suspension system. It would cost around 4k. I just went, when he gives me money for the first month, I’ll have money to pay for that and 3k besides. Yes it is a seductive lifestyle and I was thoroughly seduced. Which is, I don’t know if shocking would be the right word for it, but I just mean – even I, snug little miss who never wanted for anything, was a complete goner, can you imagine how such a proposition would feel to a girl in desperate need of money?

Because he was never going to control me with money. Oh, based on our texts, you could see that he has a little bit of a controlling streak. Like, a spoiled brat who’s used to getting his way, you know. Which is understandable – that’s probably why he keeps sugar babies instead of having more conventional relationships with egalitarian power structures. Anyway, I don’t need his money. In fact it was some source of concern. Like, wouldn’t income tax find it suspicious if I suddenly have this influx in my monthly income? I even asked him how the other ladies managed their money, but he said he had no idea. In the end I rationalised that there isn’t an actual law barring your rich boyfriend from giving you money if he feels like it, right? So if I ever get audited, that’s what I was going to tell them.

Anyway, if it’s not for the money, then what did I want with him? Good question, that. And I did think about it. Because what I actually want is romance. The good, old, lifelong kind. The commitment kind. The being silly and crazy together but each other’s steady rock and safe haven when it comes to big life questions kind. I’m never going to get that with him. He is expressly paying girls to avoid any emotional entanglements. I did ask if he would indulge me once in a while when I want cuddles and to wake up next to him, and he said he had no objections to that. Thinking back, however, that was very early on and he would have humoured any request I had.

Cause he’s as cute as a freaking button. If he was some obese 63-year-old grandpa I wouldn’t even have swiped right on him haha.

Since I was aware of this, why am I still signing up to this arrangement? Well, for one thing, this guy who’s suppose to embark on that romance with me, I don’t know where the hell he is. I don’t even know if he’s out there. Mr Sugar Daddy, on the other hand, is here. Now. And he sounds reasonable enough, and fun enough, and he looks like that, for God’s sake. And anyway it’s not like I’m getting married to him. If he’s free to break our arrangement at any time, well, so am I. If Mr Romance stumbles into my life, I’ll just break it off with Mr Sugar Daddy, no biggie. And for another, perhaps this is just my fancy, but I imagine that sugar babies have such glamorous lifestyles. I wanna know what that feels like, strolling into some high-end place on the arms of a rich, powerful man. So what if everyone knows that you’re on his arms because you’re screwing him? In fact, wouldn’t that be so very thrilling?

But all these were just lovely fantasy. After about two weeks of talking, we decided to meet last night. He would bring his harem’s blood test results and the money, and if I was happy with everything, I’d follow him home. So I excitedly packed because it would be a smarter option to just spend the night, and off I went to the rendezvous point. I had asked to meet somewhere neutral first instead of heading directly to his place, just in case, you know. Throughout all this, I couldn’t wait until everything is finalised so I could tell Mr Atheist that I had bagged myself a sugar daddy. (This point needs unpacking, but this post is not the time nor place. I just noted it because I don’t want to forget.)

Thank God I managed to bite my tongue and not say anything until things were properly decided. Because, in the end, Mr Sugar Daddy, he was a no-show. I waited for more than an hour just in case he was stuck in traffic somewhere, or what if he had got in a car accident (you can blame Love O2O for this level of husnuzon), or something. I did have his number so I gave him a couple of rings. The calls would not connect. But he had read my texts, but he didn’t respond to any of it.

It certainly did not feel good to be stood up by a prospective sugar daddy and having that feeling creep up slowly that you had been duped by a catfish. Thinking back, I had asked to video call once because he asked for a sexy picture but I was not comfortable sending it. I mean, no matter how stupid I get I’m still aware that if my nudes leaked I would get in a lot of trouble so that’s always where I draw the line. In fact I would tell matches that I might sleep with them but I would never send them nudes. Anyway, the point was he declined to have a video call because he had no voice due to covid. In retrospect, why would he need his voice if he wanted to see the proportions of a potential sugar baby, right?

Prior to that, I had once asked him for his Instagram and he said that it was hacked a year ago and he had not bothered to make a new one. In the wake of everything now, I’m thinking, the guy in the picture is the poor guy whose Instagram got hacked, and the hacker is the one posing as this prospective sugar daddy who had been texting me for about two weeks now. Poor Instagram guy. And poor me for falling for his sweet good looks.

In the future I will need to watch out for these red flags. No video call is one thing. No Instagram, two red flags ignored. But I also asked him for his payslip because I did wonder how much he was making if he could easily spend 21k a month on three sugar babies (and he has ambitions for a fourth, too, even going so far as to ask me if I had anyone to recommend), but he said “u dtg umah i tgk duit i je la” because “mcm i nk beli umah u buat” to which I responded, “You nak beli i. I nak decide i patut jual ke tidak. Lagi berharga dari rumah.” I’m actually proud of the wit of the response, but I’m not proud that I let the issue go. I should have insisted. A real sugar daddy would be eager to show off his wealth anyway.

Perhaps what should have really alerted me, a language teacher, was his speech. There are no two ways about it. His speech was so rempit that sometimes I had no idea what he was trying to say. Since he claims to be an MCKK boy, a UM graduate, and a Petronas geomatic specialist, it should have raised an eyebrow that his speech was so lowbrow. And yet, he seems to understand my English perfectly well, even if I couldn’t bring myself to repeat the words he would use in his response. So that’s really my bad. As I told Ms Martyr, I wouldn’t have tolerated his speech were he anyone else, but 7k a month would buy you some privileges. Apparently the mere promise is enough to purchase my gullibility as well.

The most mortifying thing about the whole incident is the walk of shame last night. When I slept with my two misters previously, I never had a walk of shame. I was proud of my choices (even if they all were stupid in their own ways). Last night, I had a very long walk of shame, from the long drive home to the literal long walk from the car park to my front door. I mean, there was no one to witness the walk, and even if they did none of them would be aware of what had transpired, but I did. I, who fancy myself level-headed, fell for the seductive promises of a catfish.

I know that in order to move on, we don’t need to know people’s reasons for doing things to us. But still, I’m morbidly curious about his objectives. What did he get out of catfishing me like that? For me to waste a few gallons of gas? Perhaps he gets a kick when he thinks about me waiting there stupidly for him? He never asked for any money from me. He never even asked for my phone number or e-mail address. All he did get out of me were a few pictures (which I do shudder about when I think about what he would do with them), but all of them are innocent enough that they wouldn’t cause any irreparable damage. So I’m just really, really puzzled.

So there it is, my brief, 11-day career as a potential sugar baby. Did I enjoy the journey? I really did. It’s really quite something else to walk in a crowd thinking how no one suspects that this nonchalant-looking person is just so very naughty actually. It made work a little more exciting too, thinking that I would have it all – work, my hiking world, and this secret existence as a kept woman – and wouldn’t my life be just so very hectic but all the more exciting? But yeah, that’s one bubble burst and I’m back to my ordinary life. For now at least.

Funny little thing

Mr. Virgo is magnificent at holding a grudge. I sent him a series of texts to break up on February 2nd; he hasn’t read them till now. In fact he was being so quiet that I actually started worrying about him. What if the reason he hasn’t read the texts was because he was lying under a bus somewhere?

Yesterday he finally posted something on his instagram and I just instinctively responded with a text saying how happy I was that he was okay and wishing him a great week. I know he’s been on ig off and on since yesterday cause I’ve been checking it periodically – I do know better but I just couldn’t help it – and he still hasn’t fucking read my text.

It’s inaccurate to say that I’m hurt by it, but neither would it be accurate to say that I’m completely unaffected to be so pointedly ignored.

Ultimately, though, him ignoring me is helpful to me. Because, if I’m being honest I do miss his lovemaking, even if I don’t quite miss him. I mean he didn’t do anything that might make me miss him, but he did treat me well in bed. I have thought about swallowing my pride and just inviting him over for a booty call quite a few times now, quite a lot actually, but his ignoring my texts is quite a deterrent. I had even toyed about sending him new texts – perhaps he didn’t wanna read the breakup texts but he would wonder what I wanted to say a month later – but now since the instagram episode I know that he wouldn’t engage with me in any way.

Despite everything, I do hope he is actually okay and motivated by spite and not because I broke his heart. I mean based on our time together, I don’t think it’s possible that I broke his heart and yet the heart is a funny little thing, isn’t it? On my side, he made me cry a little bit, but it wasn’t him that I was crying about: it was what he stood for and the realisations that he brought, the understanding that I had unresolved trauma that needed healing. So yes our time together made me cry, but it wasn’t him that make me cry and he certainly did not break my heart. Besides our lovely time in bed, I actually treasure him for awakening the realisation in me, so I will always think of him fondly. I hope he feels the same way. I mean we did not work out, but the last thing I want to be is a girl who broke his heart.

Mango yoghurt

To celebrate Lil Sis convocation ceremony, finally graduating from medical school, I put up a post on instagram of us and her diploma and all the flower bouquets she received. That picture is preceded by a picture of us celebrating her birthday when she was 8 or 9: we were both in a chair, I was kissing her cheek, and she was reveling in all the love she’s receiving. The caption: Eternally grateful for mango yoghurt.

At her lowest point in medical school, Lil Sis would have taken her life. The irony of being a medical student was in learning how to save a life, she also knew how to end it. Effectively, silently, without mess. What stopped her in her tracks was the thought that if she took her life she would never more know the taste of mango yoghurt.

I would learn of this dark incident years afterwards. I wasn’t there when she needed someone. I truly meant it when I said I was grateful for mango yoghurt.

Lil Sis burst into tears when she saw the post. I had meant the post as a victory dance: Take that, medical school, she won. I had meant to make her triumphant, not sad. Instead, she saw the happy little girl she used to be and felt sorry for her: she had no idea the trials and tribulations that awaited her, and all Lil Sis wanted to do was bundle her up, give her a hug, and prepare her for the tough road ahead. She’s so little and she’s so happy. She has no idea how messed up she will be.

It’s a little sad and bittersweet, to be sure, but I’m glad that she’s found compassion for herself. I told her that that little girl still exists, and that little girl is you, and on days when you feel like can’t go on, remember the little girl and be kind to her.

Wherever she may be, may the little girl always find her way to mango yoghurt if she needs it.

Upgrade

Yes okay I’m absolutely redonculous I know but Baby Fish made me a close friend lalalalalala~

Living the dream

Baby Fish is back in my life. IDK some time 2, 3 weeks ago I responded to his story on IG and then we texted for a few hours and he said he’s not content with that, that he wanted to talk over a Zoom call. We set a time for Friday last week and I thought it’d be a short thing but we talked for close to five hours. And I was hungry and I needed to pee but I said nothing and instead just followed him wherever he took the conversation.

He really looks a lot like a Malay Sean Xiao – a notion he took offense at, claiming that Sean Xiao was a Chinese him 🤣🤣🤣

And then today (well, yesterday now, as it’s past midnight), Ms. Married texted me. Out of the blue. But it was a good conversation and I think we made up. I still don’t know what went wrong with us, but she’s confessed, IDK whether knowingly or subconsciously, that she’s envious of my life.

I really hope I reassured her.

If it looks like I’m gloating, that’s not my point at all. I just wanted to note that my life right now is in a beautiful place and that I am grateful.

Closure, hopefully

So Ms. Married texted me today.

I honestly don’t know how I feel about it. As much as I want to treat it casually, I think it is messing with me at some subconscious level because afterwards I was just on the explore page of IG as usual and I just teared up at the randomest things.

And among the things that I’ve been getting on my explore page are psychology and healing contents, and things I’ve been learning include letting go of past toxic relationships where if the ex is making amends in order to heal, you are not obligated to be part of their life or even their journey. Like, sometimes their healing might cause your own wounds to reopen, and in such times, you don’t have to oblige them. Actually, you don’t have to oblige them ever if you don’t feel like it. You don’t owe them anything.

But she’s asked to see me over lunch, and I’ve agreed. Closure, you know – it’s what I’ve always wanted from our situation. And I wanna know her side of the story – what was it that I did that was so wrong. Because, maybe I was the toxic one and didn’t know it. Getting feedback would help me move forward, right?

You’re still the one

Look, new year, new you, right? Clean slate and all that. So I thought maybe I’ve given Ms Married enough space. Ms Martyr told me that Ms Married was getting therapy and she’s understood that her issue with me has nothing to do with me at all, that she will have to figure it out on her own.

So I get that. And I’ve been giving her lots and lots of space. And hasn’t it been an entire year? Like, I can’t remember when we fell out; in any case, can there a specific date for what happened when I’m not exactly sure what exactly happened?

But like, at some point last year she sent me a follow request on IG (remember she blocked me), but it was around midnight. I saw the notification and thought that it would be perfectly normal to deal with it the next morning so I didn’t log into IG and lo and behold the next morning the request was gone. Sometimes I wonder if we’d be reconciled now if I had acted instantaneously but then again the request was gone when I checked first thing the next morning so it’s not like I ignored her like I could legit have gone to bed and like she couldn’t wait 12 hours?

Anyway. Whatever. On the group WhatsApp she sometimes responds to me now and as usual I act like nothing happened so I thought that maybe she had thawed but like nothing was happening and I thought maybe we both just need a little courage to restart and I thought I’d break the stalemate.

So today I finally asked the group to lunchy lunchy (that’s what we used to call our getogether on Friday’s long lunch breaks) tomorrow. Ms Martyr enthusiastically responded in the affirmative almost immediately. Ms PhD, too – for all that she’s like 500 km away and will not logically be able to attend.

Ms Married responded at 4.35 p.m. that she’d be on leave tomorrow but hopes that we would have fun. She has to take tomorrow off because there are pipe leaks at her house and she’s getting someone to come take care of it tomorrow.

Now, I know this can be the truth and it can be a real annoying emergency – hey, my parents’ house very recently flooded due to pipe leakage – but the way she responded, the way she waited till the end of the day…

I hope she’s proud. Not many people can truly, truly make me sad.

I have become a lesson

Ms. Married threw me away.

We hadn’t spoken in months. Ever since I got the permanent post. Ever since she announced that I was being unfair and very selfish for accepting this post after all that Sponsor had done for me. You’re privy to how much I disagreed with that statement: yeah, I’m not denying that Sponsor had done loads for me, but it has also done loads to me. Btw, I still haven’t heard anything back from Sponsor – not about the interview, not about a job offer, not about a repayment scheme, not about being set free.

So anyway. I thought things would blow over naturally. After all, it was a ridiculous disagreement. I mean, from where I’m sitting, it’s not even a real disagreement. She couldn’t possibly want me to stay a part-time-full-time staff, with no benefits, no prospects or career advancement, and no pension, while waiting indefinitely for Sponsor’s verdict, could she? A blind dude could see what I should choose. So I turned a blind eye to it. I didn’t contact her directly, but then I rarely did. I’m one of those friends who’s just there without being in-your-face 24/7. We usually communicate through the group WhatsApp, which given the tension I guess is a blessing since Misses Martyr and Ph.D are both present to buffer any awkwardness.

Except after about a week or so it gets pretty noticeable to Ms. Married was pointedly giving me the silent treatment.

And, truth be told, this is what I thought: two can play this game.

Except two can’t play this game. Ms. Married is magnificent at holding a grudge; I simply have neither taste nor stamina for it.

Still, about 2 months ish have gone by at this point. The semester finally winds down and the Eid came. Eid – a time of friendship, forgiveness, and starting anew. I toyed for days with the idea of sending the group Charlie Puth & Selena Gomez’s We Don’t Talk Anymore. I agonised over caption after caption. Maybe it’s better with no caption? In the end I decided to be an adult about it and stop being so passive-aggressive, so I asked everyone what they would be doing on (now last) Sunday.

Before anyone could say anything else, I followed up with, ‘Ms Married, if i wanna come raya on sunday can? Heheheh’

Now, because it’s on WhatsApp, I know she’s read it. The others responded with their weekend plans and I told them about my maternal cousin while waiting for an answer. She said nary a word.

And then today I saw this on Instagram:

I’m only human, you know? She hosted a small makan makan for some close friends. On the very Sunday I asked if I could meet her. About which she never responded. At best she’s callous and oblivious, and I’m makan cili all on my own. But the Ms. Married that I know is queen of passive-aggressiveness, and doesn’t this amount to a declaration that I’m not a close friend?

 

I thought she would say something, even if to abuse me. She said nothing. While waiting I thought I’d torture myself again with that Ig post – I wanted to save the entry – you know, the classic perverseness of a broken heart – and, and… the post is no longer there.

What, did she delete it? Because she realises now that it’s hurtful to some people, hurtful to me?

She bloody blocked me on Instagram. Social media aggression. That shit fucking hurts.

So of course I went to see if she’s responded to my texts. She hadn’t, but she’s changed her display picture from the neutral cereal to this:

It’s back to the cereal after like half an hour, so I’m left to assume that this stupid text post is for my benefit. Fine. A lesson it is.