trying to recoup what was lost, even if it was never really had

let’s just jump right into it, shall we?

i didn’t actually start getting nervous about my date until about three or fours before we’d arranged to meet, while i was still at work. what was i going to wear? how was i going to do my hair?

i stopped being nervous once i began getting ready to leave the office and go home. no biggie. i shrugged it all off.

once i got home, because i still had a while until i had to go meet her, i decided to just chill and rest. i was hella tired from the work-day.

i plopped myself on my bed and laid flat on my back, with one arm propped behind my head. my dog, whom i’d only cursorily patted on the head after stepping through the front door, came scrambling into the room after getting over her stunned disappointment that i was not going to give her a doggie cookie, like i usually do once i get home. she jumped up on her hind legs and eagerly started pawing at my bed covers, which always makes me smile. i sat up briefly to pick her up under her armpits, as if she were a toddler, and i plopped her onto the bed with me.

once she was on the bed with me, she started scrambling up and down the length of the mattress excitedly, her small tongue lolling out, and she panted vigorously, like a winded fat man who had just made a mad dash from sofa to refrigerator. as i laid back down, exhausted, she clambered onto my chest and laid down on me, pinning me down with her light weight. i obliged her silent but excited request and began scratching her head and giving her loud smacking kisses all over. she loves that kind of attention. to show me love in return, she enthusiastically licked my skin anywhere she could get her tongue on me – my cheek, my hand, my arm, my neck.

obviously, i love my little dog. :) i love coming home to her. i love her loyalty and her unconditional love for me (although i realize that she may love the doggie cookies i give to her just a tad more). she’s my totem, my little sidekick, my animal alter-ego.

but even the love of my pooch was not enough to save me from my own thoughts. with about two hours left until i had to go meet my date, my mood ended up darkening. i didn’t know at the time exactly why i was getting all moody again, but i knew it was wrong of me to start feeling that way. still, i couldn’t help it. i could feel myself getting angry and morose.

i was wasting my evening, i thought to myself. i’d rather be at my favorite coffee shop studying. i’d rather stay in with my dog. i’d rather be doing something alone instead of going on a date with someone i had no interest in.

why did i say yes?

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by 7 p.m., i looked great. i looked cute. even i could see that.

i had picked out a casual outfit to wear. i carefully did my hair. and my make-up looked flawless and amazing – while still rather natural looking. i mentally thanked the sephora salesgirl who had helped me out with my purchase last week. i had gone into the local sephora shop to get some more eye primer and to find a new eyeshadow palette to mess around with. a young, platinum blond salesgirl chick with icy cool blue eyes had helped me out. she acted rather cool (aren’t all sephora salesgirls rather crusty? :-T) to me at first, and when i asked her for help in finding a new eyeshadow palette, she coldly suggested one by urban decay. i was kind of dubious about going with a new brand; i had been a paula dorf fan for the longest time until sephora stopped selling her line and then had tried out smashbox – but hadn’t been too impressed with the quality and texture of it. the salesgirl then offered to do my eyes so that i could see how i’d like the urban decay palette. when i agreed, she sat me down on a chair, and i obediently sat still while she put on a combination of gold and green on my eyes. when i saw the result of her careful machinations, my eyes popped out in amazement.

“holy shit,” i told her as i stared admiringly at my own reflection in the mirror i held up to my face. “sold!”

urban decay, i am now a fan.

when i expressed gratitude to the salesgirl for her assistance, she finally started warming up to me and smiling at me, and she assured me that any combination of colors on the palette would work well with my dark brown eyes – unlike for someone with her blue eyes, which would not work well with blue or purple-y colors.

so last night, i went with a minimal amount of gold and blue eyeshadow, added some concealer to hide the subtle bags under my eyes, put on some blush and lip gloss, and left the house to go to town.

a small bit of resentment that had stirred up in me before after i had gotten home from work still resided in me. but it only made me hold my chin a bit higher as i got into my car. going out on this date wouldn’t be so bad. i looked good and felt good. things could only go up from there. i could do anything i wanted.

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i arrived a few minutes late to my date. i mentally cursed myself. i hate tardiness – but i hate it even more when i’m the one who’s late.

this proclivity of mine to be punctual is rare amongst most asians, by the way. most asians tend to prefer to go on rubber time. :-P

i saw her already waiting for me when i arrived. we had drinks and then took a walk. and when we had walked around once, we decided to take another walk around again. a couple of hours later, we parted ways.

and that was that.

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okay. so maybe that wasn’t really just that.

to tell the truth, i was bored out of mind the whole time.

i’m the type of person who generally and instantaneously can tell whether she will like a person or not. my instincts are generally right.

so when the girl originally asked me out, although i already knew she was nice and stuff, i already knew what kind of person she would be and whether i’d end up really liking her.

she really is nice and all.

but those things that i mentally noted when i first started getting to know her became hugely exacerbated during the time we hung out last night. there were times when she was bearable, but there were more times when i found her excruciatingly annoying. and so i found myself mentally ticking off the minutes until i felt it would be safe and polite for me to take my leave of her.

god. i’m so mean.

but it’s just the truth.

:-T

i got into my car after the date ended and plunged out into the dark of night onto the freeway to head home. it was not until 20 minutes later, when i had exited the freeway and had to begin navigating the silent country roads that led to home that i began asking myself why.

WHY WAS I DOING THIS?

i was stopped at a red light. there were no other cars on the road. there was a lack of movement from the world altogether and just a deafening silence. i was starting to feel helpless again, lost. i could feel tears starting to burn in my eyes. i started getting angry again.

this was not how it was supposed to be.

i don’t know how it’s supposed to be. but this -- this -- was not how it was supposed to be.

i felt kind of grim. before, when i had agreed to go out on this date, i could not consciously begin to say why i’d said yes.

but as i sat there in the car, waiting for my light to turn green, i knew.

i had done it to feel good about myself. to feel confidence in myself again.

hanging out with that girl felt dreadfully longer than it had actually been. she was a chatterbox. her jokes got lamer and lamer as the evening wore on. i eventually found myself unable to look in her eyes – and i cursed myself for doing so as the evening wore on even as i continued to stare anywhere else but at her.

it was unfair to her. but when i don’t like someone or am annoyed with a person, i can’t hide it. i’m too honest. and just looking at her was starting to annoy the hell out of me.

i know what i want. i know what type of person i’m attracted to. i know what kind of person i’d fall in love with. i’ve already had a brief, fleeting glimpse of what that kind of person would be. and anything, anyone else just comes up short. very short.

it is unfair (and rather mean of me, i admit) to that girl, but going out with her, i could regain perspective of myself. when things go wrong, all the weakness and flaws that i am self-conscious about seem hugely exaggerated. i blame myself for everything. i’m not good enough, i’m too naive, i’m too this or that, or i’m far too lacking in other qualities.

but last night, i regained perspective of myself and realized . . . .

there’s nothing wrong with me. i have a lot to offer. i’m normal. i’m nice. i’m cute. i take care of myself and i love taking care of others. i run. i’m a fun smack-talker but never to the point of sheer nastiness. i’m educated. i’m smart. i’m not just a goal-setter – i put plans into motion to achieve those goals. i may be addicted to video games, but i’m not a loser. i'm loyal to the death. i have an idea of social graces. i take an honest and direct approach. in bed, i love to give more than i receive – and i love making it last. i like to try most things at least once. i can’t read minds, but i can read moods. and i just know what i want. when i know what i want, i want nothing else; everything else is, at best, just a pale imitation.

falling in love shouldn’t be so complicated. there shouldn’t be games. there shouldn’t be hedging or hemming and hawing. if you want someone or something, it should be straight-forward, pure and simple. and if two people want each other, there should be no force in the world that could ever keep them apart.

or at least that’s how i view it.

and that’s why i think . . . she never really wanted me or was serious about me to begin with. . . .

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two months ago, i had a dream. i know for a fact when the dream occurred because it was only a few days after the dream that she officially broke my heart.

in my dream, i was sitting in an airplane, my little sister in the window seat on my right. we were taking a flight to somewhere, although i don’t know where exactly.

she was sitting in the row directly behind us, in the window seat behind my sister. i happened to turn around in my seat and got a glimpse of her. instantaneous recognition for the both of us. her face looked somewhat different – but i still recognized her eyes. i knew it was her.

even though she recognized me, too, she gave no indication that she wanted to talk to me. she only stared at me, quite unforgivingly. as if to say, “what the hell do you want?”

i didn’t blame her. i remember thinking about how schlumpy i was in the dream, especially in comparison to her. ugly betty meets nelle porter of ally mcbeal. the nerd and the ice queen. i remember running a hand through my messy ponytail and reaching up to touch the nerdy glasses on my face (the terrible ones i wore during high school :-P) and feeling so self-conscious. no wonder she didn’t want to talk to me, not even to just say hi. i was a mess. i wasn’t beautiful. and she was - stunningly so.

and so it went throughout the entire plane ride. i would turn around in my seat to look at her, as if my eyes could not drink in the sight of her enough, and she would stare at me in return, but we never exchanged a single word. we changed planes multiple times throughout the journey. and each time we walked across the tarmac, she would walk behind me and my sister. and i’d try to walk slowly so that she could catch up with me, but she always maintained her distance.

when i woke up from the dream, after changing flights at least two or three times, it was with a feeling of certainty. i understood that she wasn’t going to talk to me again.

and then i got her e-mail a couple of days later.

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for a while there, i thought it was me. i blamed myself.

but last night, i finally realized it is not me. or at least it’s not just me.

i realized she was the one who never really gave me a chance to begin with. she was the one who kept me at bay the whole time. it was nothing that i did or didn’t do per se. she just . . . .

i don’t know what. i can’t and don’t want to read minds and behind intentions. she said a lot of things, and i have spent so much time trying to figure out what words she meant when she said them and what words she did not. but it’s all a wasted effort. the only thing i can do at this point is not believe anything she ever told me. it’s safest. it’s easier to believe she spun me nothing but lies and that she never gave a shit about me. that way i can remain angry at her and forget about how much i miss her. i’d be able to move on. and truth be told, i don’t think i have any reason to believe otherwise – especially not when i keep in mind how she gave me the brush-off towards the end there.

people say falling in love is the best feeling in the world, one of the best things about being alive. a part of me kind of agrees. i’d never been in love before and always scoffed dubiously at people who made themselves ridiculous all in the name of being in love.

but now i kind of understand what all the hub-bub is about. falling in love is a culmination of matching the physical with the emotional/mental, the inner and the outer. there are things you can see with your eyes, but the things that you see with your heart are even more beautiful and powerful. you can touch and be touched without moving a single muscle and without making use of your sensitive fingertips. there are some things that you know to be true because of the self-evident basis on the laws of science and nature, and other things that you know to be true because something inside you feels that immovable certainty about the truth of them. an indelible engraving is carved out for her somewhere inside you that fits only the imprint of her and no one else. the winds of time, the sands of change cannot alter it. you are never the same. once she leaves her mark, she is there for good, and when that engraving ends up being all that you have left of her, you turn yourself inside out in agony. she leaves you all cut up and bleeding, but she’s the only one who can nurse you back to wholeness. even when the blood dries, you still ache. the ache never goes away.

i wish i could tell her all this. i’ve wanted to. but i don’t know . . . . i don’t know how she’d respond. i don’t know if she even cares. she might even be surprised at the depth of my feelings. . . .

whatever. just let it go and move on, right?

:-T

in a way, it is a memorable experience. it's an exciting feeling to have when you see you’ve met your match, so i guess i ought to be grateful. and yet . . . she opened my eyes to what i will be missing for the rest of my life. call me bitter . . . but you know that quote about how it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?

bull shit.

maybe it’s just a testament to how much i have yet to get over . . .

but i think i prefer the latter option. i sometimes wish it had never happened.

i just don’t like losing.