Notes to self

Some weeks seem to go reasonably well, as far as being a normal, stable human being goes. Like, I can get my work done, have a nice time with friends, go to the gym, etc. I can function.

Other weeks, such as this week, I seem bent on proving to everyone that I am stark raving mad. I blame it on the fact that I’ve been feeling a bit vulnerable. The reasons are two-fold: lack of food and caffeine (still on diet) and a boy being rubbish.

The guy I’ve sort of been seeing has disappeared. You may not remember, but the last guy I dated a year ago, the Kuwaiti dude who forgot to tell me he was married with kids, did the same thing; just disappeared (when he returned I told him I was LIVID and he just kind of shrugged and looked unfazed). It’s enough to send a girl a bit loopy. You hope there’s a reasonable explanation: he’s lost the use of his fingers, he’s out of the country, he’s got amnesia, etc but really, in your heart of hearts, you know he’s just a horrid little playboy. In fact, I have changed his name to jow-chuu (Thai for playboy) on my phone. But, I am fickle, so if I’m feeling goopy again next week because he called with a terrible excuse, forget I said anything bad about him.

But the vulnerability he has brought out in me has manifested itself in some funny ways. Mainly text message-y ways. The Playboy has got me obsessing about every part of my life. I’m a bit more paranoid if my friend doesn’t message me back as soon as I have Whatsapp’d her, I got moody from not hearing from Hotty Instructor one morning (he has been messaging me random, casual messages regularly since I hired him as my personal trainer last week). But mainly, my sms-ing fingers have been directing my anguish at his un-answering phone, with growing desperation. “Are you out tonight?”, “Hey! Have you forgotten me already?”, “Well, I guess I won’t text you again after this if you don’t reply. Just sad not to hear from you. Hope everything is okay?” Needless to say, he hasn’t replied to any of them.

I am livid with myself for sounding so desperate. I would like to be a cool, independent woman, who just brushes it off when a guy they’re falling for just cuts her off; his loss. But I’m afraid I am nowhere near as self-assured as that. I had to get my friends to stage a phone intervention yesterday. They took me out for the day so that my fingers would be less inclined to reveal the extent to which he upset me. Because, as we all know, we must pretend that people treating us like garbage hasn’t upset us at all because we’re far too busy and popular to have even noticed.

But I’m so glad my friends did step in, otherwise I fear I would send him something along the lines of “WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME? I MISS YOU SO MUCH”, or some kind of teary, manic voice mail. I am so glad to have good friends. So, now I am entirely single AGAIN. Which I’m fine about. No, really. It will give me even more time for self-reflection and neurosis.