Girl and City

I miss the simpler days of affection, before pre-marital sex and cheating and Facebook statuses. When a boy who loved you would:

• Look for you at your favourite hiding spot when he couldn’t find you
• Always buy two of whatever he was getting so he could share with you: two ice cream cones, two cups of lemonade, two popsicles – although exceptions can be made (i.e. ONE large sundae)
• Share an umbrella with you in the rain
• Hold your gaze a second too long
• Tingle at the slightest touch of your skin
• Give you his mitts if you forgot yours
• Drape his blazer around you if you were cold
• Defend you in front of his friends
• Think about you before he fell asleep
• Think about you the moment he wakes up
• Make a big deal about meeting your parents
• Write you love letters with excellent penmanship, always more passionate on paper than in person

Maybe that’s why I love Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte – because the chick lit they write belong to an era when romance was more than roses on Valentine’s Day, when love was a commitment from a gentleman to a lady.
Do such gentlemen even exist anymore?

Whenever a guy comes on to me, the first thing I wonder is, “Does he have an Asian fetish?” Because there’s no faster way to feel creeped out than thinking that you might be a fetish.

I don’t really like brownies. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed a brownie from time to time, but in comparison to my general craving for chocolate, cookies, ice cream, and other forms of deliciousness, my preference for brownies ranks low. I think I even tried to like brownies at one point because so many girls who share my preference for other chocolatey goodness love brownies. But I am just not a brownies kind of girl.

Come to think of it, I’m not a huge ‘cake/cupcake girl’ either.

Originally, this post was supposed to be a list of evidence that a boy loves you, a la this but when I actually sat down to write it, I couldn’t. The only experience I could draw on was MFL, but I couldn’t bear to think about the way MFL loved me, much less write down a concrete list of evidence. I guess I’m not as over him as I’d like to believe.
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I just finished reading The Opposite of Love by Julie Buxbaum and I am completely, 100% creeped out.
Nevermind that Emily decided to break up with Andrew under the same circumstances I decided to break up with MFL.
Nevermind that she couldn’t explain to anyone, not even herself, why she decided to end her perfectly happy relationship.
Nevermind that Andrew is the name of MFL (which is why I refer to him as A in my earliest entries).
Nevermind that they dated for two years, just as we had.
Nevermind, even, that the first time Andrew (from the book) ever said “I love you” was while they were watching an action movie in a movie theatre – exactly the same circumstances under which Andrew (from my life) first uttered those same three words.
Nevermind that Emily could not say the words back.

Are you a little bit creeped out yet? Because I am.

After reading the jacket of the book, the similarities were what led me to take out the book from the library.
“When successful 29-year-old Manhattan attorney Emily Haxby ends her happy relationship just as her boyfriend is on the verge of proposing, she can’t explain to even her closest friends why she did it.” – I have been asked a million times why I broke up with MFL and I have never been able to give a real answer.

But I was not ready to read about my own love story – my big mistake – which is why I returned the book without ever getting past the first two pages. But a few weeks later, I took it out again. This time, it took me until the end of my loan period to finally read the book.

Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. (more…)

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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Otherwise known as “The One Where SG Replays Her Saddest Moments.”

You know in that episode of Friends before Ross gets married, where Rachel is debating whether she should go to his wedding, and she has the flashback of their long and tumultuous but memorable relationship?

No, you’re thinking, I don’t know what this girl is talking about and I frankly don’t care! Will she stop it with the Friends references already?

But I don’t care what you think because this is my blog and here, I reign supreme.

So anyways, as I was saying.
Well, I’ve decided to write a “cast” list for my life, and when it came to MFL, I was suddenly unsure what to write. Now, I realize I haven’t mentioned him since March (yes I’ve been counting), so for those of you who are new here, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about (by the way, welcome to my life, have a cup of coffee, sit down and enjoy because you are going to feel loads better about yourself after you hear my stories). For the record, no, MFL does not stand for Midget Football League. It stands for My First Love, also known as The Big Boyfriend (not big in that way you sick, sick children), who was a major character in my life and well, my first love (duh). Obviously, we are no longer together, otherwise I wouldn’t be talking about him as if he was dead (which he’s not, but he might as well be because he’s alive, breathing, and dating some other chick).

The reason I haven’t mentioned him in the last month is because I kind of decided after my series of ridiculously melodramatic entries that I was going to stop tormenting myself and cut him out of thoughts. Which was sort of successful until I started re-watching Friends and then heard the Lobster reference and then wondered whether I’d let go of my Lobster. It also helped that I had a couple of boytoys to keep me distracted. But now the boytoys are gone and I’m sitting around watching Friends and eating chocolate and ice cream. And not that low-fat/soy/yogurt stuff either. The Real Thing!
But don’t worry, I’m still in shape. Round is a shape !

So anyway, instead of re-iterating the whole love story and its aftermath, I’m going to have my very own little “flashback episode.” Ooh. Aah.
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