Everybody said they were glad to see you go --
but no one ever has to know.-- Alex Wong & Vienna Teng, In the Creases
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I sigh in defeat. I'm trying to listen to a lively anecdote, but the persistent flashbacks distract me. The memory of an index finger booping me on the nose takes me aback, and my mind comes back to the restaurant.
Relatively speaking, I'm not supposed to take this long getting over someone, especially someone that I saw for such a short period of time. After all, what's the rule? However long you were seeing each other, you're allowed half that length of time to get over that person (i.e. I was with Phuc for nearly six years, so technically my grace period for that relationship is still ongoing). Now this kid? I saw him for a month, and it's now almost a month later. Isn't this illegal? My current state of mind is, well, unlike me.
Yet, even after reaching acceptance and agreeing that it was all for the best, the jazz music keeps playing in my head. God, I can still feel that soft blonde hair between my fingers. I still think of that gaze as he admitted, like a sinner in confession, "I have to tell you, Christa. You're absolutely gorgeous. You are stunning. You are... the perfect girl, and I have to keep stepping back to remind myself that this is all real."
It becomes increasingly clear that this, right now... accepting a naive invitation to coffee, to dinner, to converse and exchange warm glances -- this is a charade. I relax the tension in my shoulders as I spill unfamiliar words, surrendering to honesty, "I have to be upfront with you. I'm not the most emotionally available girl in the world right now. ..."
I have to say, I'm happy with where we are right now, and I hope so dearly for us to grow into friends. Yet, still I wait for the day that I can get him out of my head.
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As far as this blog goes, the better part of my last month has existed in half-written scribbles on random pieces of paper whenever I could scrounge up free time. There are half-written hooks and pieces of exposition. There are quotes out of context and dialogue with no meaning.
A lot can exist in hindsight, but those heartbeats -- as crude as they are -- are pulses that seek permanence.
Rather than re-writing history to tell you my life as it was, here are those excerpts as they exist in my scraps of paper -- trapped in time and in poor handwriting.
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Not dated.
I am currently writing this in the basement of my lab building -- in the vivarium, where we keep our laboratory mice. Life has been good since I've last written, although maybe not as typical and predictable. My "lonely bug" days have been steadily decreasing as the city slowly feels less and less new.
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1/23/14
something near me smells delicious
is it this omelette?
it must be
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2/20/14
how to be alone
A long time ago, at a time that I always euphemistically refer to as "The Old Life" in writing, I used to date a boy named Phuc, and one fair summer afternoon after a few years together, he broke up with me.
I don't bring that up in implication of longing or melancholy for that lost love, but to mention all of the incredible foreshadowing that I chose to ignore. Namely -- one day, he sent me a YouTube video titled "How to Be Alone" several weeks prior to leaving me.
Honestly, I don't remember much about that video. Or article? (To be honest, I really don't remember the form of its content -- I'm really just guessing.) I was so lost in my dependency on Phuc that it completely went over my head. "Why would I need to read/watch (whatever it was) this? I don't have any reason to -- I have Phuc."
Of course, in the end, it wasn't a lesson that I learned at the the time, but it was something that I would eventually learn all the same.
I mentioned my ongoing battle with loneliness in an earlier blog post, after which I ended up going through a hell of a time.
Just romantically, these past few months have been remarkable in their events and frustration, especially after a long period of absolutely nothing. I spent Thanksgiving with Jacob, upon which I thought I witnessed the death of our friendship, then I spent my birthday with Jacob, upon which we both rekindled our affections, our mutual respect, and finally resolved our existence as friends. I had a month-long kind-of-dating-until-i-uhhh-dumped-him with Jon, during which I was integrated into the tattooed vegan death metal community of San Diego -- whatever your mind's reaction to that is, that's probably true.
Then there's Alex. You don't know much about him. For now, just know that it's over. And that he's tall. And that I miss him.
My platonic life has little current, but it's not so stagnant that it's attracting mosquitoes. I have an undergrad friend from UCSD who I regularly grab dessert with. I have a friend from UC Merced who I visit sometimes. I most frequently see my labmates and my friend from my first TSRI internship, and sometimes my sister when our paths collide.
It's something -- at least enough to keep me from going insane -- but it's definitely a world away from the extroversion that I explored during my undergrad. I've been touring museums by myself all month. I watched the Lego Movie by myself the other day. Hell, right now, I am writing this alone in a bar. Yes, I am that girl, writing the draft for her blog in a notebook at a bar.
With that, I can't help but remember the day that Phuc sent me that link: How to Be Alone.
I just came from San Diego's Contemporary Museum of Art, and I think that's the moment it happened for me. I stood there, beholding a remarkable view of the ocean and the sunset. I heard voices around me echoing off the marble floor. I looked around me, and I came to a realization: I am the only person here alone. Everyone else here came with someone. Except me. This was not the first museum where I've reached this conclusion, but this was the first time that it significantly bothered me. Maybe it's because Alex called it off so recently. Maybe it's because I've gone too long without human contact outside of my lab. Maybe it's because the sight of this massive ocean just overwhelmed me, making me feel so miniscule. Whatever it was, it was magnified by the cold white walls and looming photos around me.
In that moment, I felt so small.
"Alone" crossed the line into "lonely."
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Not dated.
I was going to start drafting a blog but lol j/k I'm drunk and sleepy
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Most recent. Not dated.
It is clear to me that the way I feel defies logic. We didn't know each other that long, and we didn't see each other that much. Effectively, he was destined to become a blur. Wasn't he?
Nonetheless, just as it takes mere seconds to marvel in a breath of fresh air, it takes just as little time to feel trapped without it. In the midst of what should remain a passing dream, it becomes difficult to bargain with these moments of lucidity.
On all counts, I reason that he was incredibly frustrating, borderline flaky -- his devotion to his work made him constantly unreachable and seemingly undependable. I spent a lot of time wondering if this was worth the emotional investment, or if I should just give up. If I should stay patient and hang in there, or if I should throw in the towel.
While I describe my canonical work ethic as "self-motivated, albeit at times to a fault," referencing my senior year ulcers and ending college with doctor-prescribed senioritis, I would describe him as actually having a genuine addiction to his work. If there was an available afternoon in his life, that afternoon became dedicated to optimizing his mouse surgeries. A day off simply meant an opportunity to lyse his mouse earpieces for genotyping. It was hard to argue with the suggestion that his life was his lab.
What really makes it difficult is that after weeks of neglected opportunities to see each other, I spent a lot of time battling with the thought, "Is this really worth it?" I was caught between A) I have a great time when I'm with him, and B) but I never see him. A week before it was over, I decided the answer was yes. I decided he was worth hanging in there. He decided to give up exactly when I decided not to.
While I know I'm hurt by losing him, I'm also hurt by losing what he symbolized for me. Since Phuc, I've never really settled down. Jacob was the closest I've gotten since then, but even then, I never expected it to manifest into anything more than summer romance (I'm honestly incredibly surprised that we still talk now as friends).
This was the first time in ages that I looked someone in the eyes and thought, "Damn, this guy is just... really, really awesome." No mixed feelings, no conflicted emotions, no hunting for red flags. In spite of spending so much time being jaded, I let my guard down quickly with him. That is, if I even ever had it up at all. Every time we smiled at each other, I melted. Even the first time we made eye contact, we were both just glowing. I couldn't help but think that, man... this is the guy. This is the guy I can see myself being with for a long time.
My beef was specifically with my lack of seeing him; when we managed to find time together, everything was pretty damn perfect. He was clearly self-aware that I was frustrated at how little I managed to see him -- "I can't give you what you deserve. I don't have my shit together, and we both know it. I'm just not cut out for a relationship right now."
From the second that he asked, "Christa, can we have a chat," I've agreed with no hesitation. Ending it was really for the best. I know fully well that the way things were, we weren't cut out for much. Compatibility can only go so far.
Nonetheless: dammit. God, I really liked him.
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With that, these notes in purple and green ink (lol I left all my black pens in lab) will now find their way into a welcoming recycling bin -- from there, they'll turn into a recycled bench or something. Or more paper.
lol whatever