Girl and City

The other day I called up MFL out of the blue and said I needed to talk to him. When he asked me what about, I said I had to tell him in person. So I think I made him really anxious. Anyway, I am seeing him on Sunday.

What do I want to tell him? That I love him, always have, always will? Maybe. That I want to marry him and spend the rest of my life with him? Maybe. That our story is not over and that we have to end up together otherwise I will die? Maybe.
But how am I even going to begin to tell him that? I wouldn’t know the first thing to say. I am already chickening out now. Oh god oh god oh god this is not a good idea!

It was spurred by me reading love letters he sent me when we were going out. I was cleaning my closet and I found the bag of stuff I kept of everything he ever gave me. A couple days ago, I had seen him (after Boston) and I had been really happy because I felt like he had no effect over me anymore. I thought the fact that I was so smitten with DEB proved that I couldn’t still be in love with him. So I thought I would be okay reading those letters again. I was wrong.
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January was, without a doubt, a terrible month. How does February compare? Snippets of my life from February:

• Drinking wine: alone, so I could fall asleep without worrying about summer recruiting, people gossiping about me, or people gossiping about me and my summer recruiting
• Drinking wine: with friends, so we could commiserate without feeling too sorry for ourselves
• Not settling: going out the night before an interview that I didn’t care about, just to prove how much I didn’t care for that job
• Ambiguous boys: one and two
• Throwing myself at alumni: (still) looking for a job in Hong Kong or any major city in Asia
• Not giving a shit about class: not doing cases even though I have no other work, just like the people who actually have summer jobs
• Traveling: going to a terrible MUN conference in Boston, but also experiencing some culture through good food, good wine, and good company – plus the symphony and the museum
• Valentine’s Day: no major drama, other than a boy asking me to kiss him, plus a rose I never received
• Confronting my absolute and total fear for the last five years: getting my wisdom teeth removed
• Time to myself: searching for art in The City

In conclusion, February has been a pretty good month, aided by some money-spending and a lot of wine-drinking. The Shopaholic has been keeping a tally, and she heartily approves of my purchases this month: my first set of matching lingerie (pink and lacy), a gorgeous pair of pearl earrings, a Renoir art print from the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, a pair of Dior sunglasses¹, two pairs of Guess heels, and many more bottles of red wine.
It seems my shopping lists these days have been reduced mainly to two items: shoes and wine. At least in terms of cheering myself up, I have leveled up from the days of ice cream, although that was a lot more affordable.

1. Actually, if I had really wanted to pamper myself, I would have bought the Gucci sunglasses that literally jumped off the rack and into my hands, but I restrained myself. [↩]

Love sickness, according to Wikipedia, is defined as “a non-medical term used to describe mental and physical symptoms associated with falling in love.” Falling in love is also defined on there too but I was too scared to click on the link. Love sickness is apparently also an anxiety disorder. Well, I gotta buy a vowel because that explains why I am perpetually a mess whenever some boy comes along. I am suffering from an anxiety disorder!

Last week, I went to a conference in Boston with about 20 other kids from The Business School. The conference sucked. So we skipped most of it to explore Boston instead. DEB was on the trip, and we spent a lot of time together. I really didn’t mean to, since I had already gotten over his dreamy eyes and given up on him. On the bus there, I ended up sitting beside him, but nothing happened of course. We didn’t talk much, but we didn’t sleep much either. Later, I would realize this was because he was as excited about me sitting beside him as I was.

Twelve hours is a long time to spend on a bus, especially when you’re brushing shoulders with a guy who has the power to make your knees go weak. As soon as we arrived, the Girls (BI, GHG, and me) realized we had adjoining rooms with the Guys (DEB, FMB, and two others). You know what this means — late-night sneaking into each others’ rooms was not going to be a problem.

After registering for the conference (which was a nightmare because the guy “in charge” of our delegation did not have the first idea what he was doing and had the maturity of an 8-year-old), BI and I went to Chinatown in search of cheap and fast food. We found an ancient-looking banquet hall that was bizarrely decorated, with faded walls, dingy carpets, a musty smell. In true Cantonese dim-sum style, carts soon started to roll by our table, offering unidentifiable dishes made almost entirely with MSG.

When we returned to the hotel, I did not feel like going to the afternoon workshops, so when I ran into a group of girls headed to Newbury St. for some shopping, I invited myself along. Newbury St. is famous in Boston for its high-end boutique stores, and I was excited to see for myself how it compared to The City.

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Who says you can’t make everything better with a bottle of a wine and a couple martinis? I have gone out 2 out of 3 nights the last few days and I cannot say that I was entirely sober on any of those nights.

On Thursday, I woke up with swollen eyes since I had spent the whole night crying. Which was just pathetic, really, because it wasn’t even the job I wanted the most. So I went to school hoping no one would notice, and no one did. Except, DreamyEyedBoy¹, of all people. It must be because it’s January – my luck just runs that way.
Anyway, he, like a psychic, asks me if I had heard from Deloitte. How did he know about Deloitte? No idea. So I told him the bad news, and he comforted me, and told me that I was an amazing person and one of these days, the whole world would recognize how amazing I was. But apparently Thursday was not the day.

I ended up having lunch with ALS and spilled all, as usual. But as I told her about the night I spent crying my eyes out, possibly the first time I’ve cried like that in six years, she did not react at all. Not that I was really looking for anything, but come on, I just told one of my closest friends that I had spent an entire night crying, and I get nothing?
It turns out she had some bad news of her own. “I didn’t get McMaster,” she said finally. You see, ALS had applied for early admission into med school, but she was really nervous because her credentials, while great, were not the top 1% of applicants. And since early admission is ridiculously competitive, she had been anxiously waiting for interview notices to come out. Apparently McMaster was the first one, and she had not received a notice.

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1. I am actually considering changing his pseudonym because I don’t find his eyes that dreamy anymore, but whatever. [↩]