quench

quench

 

I hope that in writing this, I do not risk boring you with the cliche “getting over” phenomenon. Isn’t it funny that people can’t get over “getting over.” It’s repetitive. And I find, especially lately that it’s torture. Worse, it’s addictive.

I’m not an expert at keeping relationships. The longest I have been with anyone was in my last tryst, which lasted an epic four months. So don’t consider me an authority on relationships. The best advise I could give you on that regard is rooted in my idealism, or more honestly, my hopelessness.

I am, however, an expert at obsessing and the conundrum “what if?”

Exhibit A: Today, I got a call from my bestfriend in Singapore. The story of our friendship is a little complicated and deserves it’s own entry, but it’s roots may be significant in this discourse. I used to have a crush on him. I would stalk him in swimming class but never had I made any attempt at a formal interaction with him. I later formed a friendship with him when he left for Singapore and I rediscovered him online.

I still secretly wish he would fall for me.

Exhibit B: That bestfriend called me about my ex, the one I mentioned at the beginning. Yes, they met each other online through me, when ex and I were still pre-exes. Now they message each other more often than ex and I do. My bestfriend said that my ex was livid when he told him that I said my ex made a great bottom.

Although I feel that the timing of my ex and my separation had been appropriate, I still believe that it had been premature (but the reason it would never progress is beyond our control, or simply he didn’t wish for it to.)

My ex and I are in good terms. Yes, we don’t talk much (almost not at all anymore) but I’m not particularly mad at him. I actually think that in a few years, maybe we can give it another shot. But then again, we might just be too different.

Sometimes, I still ask myself if I did everything I can to keep him.  

Exhibit C: The first guy I ever dated wasn’t gay then. Well, he was experimenting. I saw him once. And I remember everything. We had a great and long conversation that one time we went out. We’ve always had a lot to say to each other. We never ran out of clever things to say.

That is, until he began to fade away,

It’s been about three years since then. I never saw him again. I lost his number with my phone. But in the most unexpected moments, he would pop up in my messenger and try as I may, I could never fully be apathetic about it.

I don’t know how wise it is to hope that he’ll find me again.

I’m known for being foolish.

Is it a sense of unfinished business that causes these feelings to persist? If this business is unfinished, then why does it seem that the object isn’t bothered by it at all? Is it like two people holding hands and the other one lets go but the one left behind still has his arm outstretched?

Their palms are open– facing upward. Isn’t it the same as begging? Or is it simply waiting? Or checking for rain?

I realize of course that keeping your hand outstretched makes it harder to embrace someone else. And the drought could be long, that it could take aeons for a single raindrop to fall upon the valley of your palm.

But then again, would you rather be parched in a warm embrace?

Or be quenched by a drop of pure bliss?

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