In high school, drama is a staple. It fuels the gossip. Back when I was in high school, it was disseminated through phone calls, MSN messenger, (the then relatively new) Facebook, and if you were rich enough, BBMing. It was thrilling and exciting to find out who had done what, and giggle over a tagged photo of someone doing something stupid. But that was me in high school, a mortifyingly socially awkward individual. Since then, I have eschewed all forms of drama.
Just ignore it, don’t get involved.
That was my motto once I entered moved overseas for university. I specifically didn’t hang out with certain groups of people to avoid it. And yet, like fucking weeds in the garden, they have sprung back to life.
Drama starts off as small shoots, and if you ignore the hydrating drizzle of overheard comments, snippets of interaction.. before you know it, those fuckers of weeds are back in your life, sucking the nutritious emotional energy out of your garden that is your life. … that might have been a protracted analogy.
tl;dr = drama is a drain on my life, and it’s back with a vengeance.
And just what areas of my life are experiencing severe drama overgrowth right now?
M has found a new love interest. When I went home for my sister’s wedding, M and I went to NYC for two days and a night. He told me it would be cheaper to share a bed. I said it didn’t matter to me, but asked if it would be a problem for him. M said no. That night, we got into bed. I accept my fault in permitting inappropriate cuddling, instead of doing the awkward and appropriate distance between us on the bed with the sheets fastidiously tucked in. Then we turned the lights off. I was small spoon and could feel his heart beating faster and harder. I could also feel the specific absence of pelvic-to-rear contact, and we know exactly what that means. It was 1am and we were to get up at 5:30-6am ish, and by that point I was simultaneously annoyed, tired and curious. So I sighed, reached down, grasped it and said, “Do you want me to take care of that?” I will confess that I cheated on P and went down on that redhead. I wouldn’t have minded going for a ride, but when M said, “That’s the first time I’ve ever been kissed,” that I drew back and hesitated.
The next morning, I knew I shouldn’t have done it. We came back home, and later that week, we talked about it. I didn’t tell M about P. I gave practical reasons like not wanting to limit either of us from future relationships while we were on opposite sides of the world. Then I pecked him on the lips when I left. Ohhh so smart. not.
I used to get incessant texts. Now? Now I get nothing. I didn’t think much of the textual silence, until I saw some instagram photos of a Philadelphia trip M went on with “a friend”, who happens to be share my ethnicity, which I know M prefers.
I’m not stupid. I think there’s some sort of mutual interest there because:
- Normal “friends” don’t make faces at each other with their tongues out as if to lick each other.
- One of M’s texts: “I have been really busy w [a friend].”
- Delayed replies by 1-2 days vs. previously near-instantaneous replies
- Brief Twitter research (read: stalking, OR using my resources)
I initiated a text exchange to try and hear about his Philadelphia trip. I’ve gotten nothing but roadblocks back.
It feels like an undercurrent of, “Hey, you didn’t return my affections, I’m going to play mind games and you can see just what you’re missing. Chase me.” Whatever.
No, not whatever. I do care. I like the attention. Even though it was annoying, it was nice to have that interest, even if I was emotionally unavailable. I don’t want some bitch getting claws into my former crush-er. I probably don’t deserve to have a say in that since M is his own individual, and what I did is morally reprehensible. But I still feel that way.
Oh well, time for bed, I have my first proper race next weekend. Must rest up and train tomorrow morning.
Also, my actual garden is overrun with weeds. I should do some weeding this weekend.