Drama: the Persistent Weed in my Life

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.


Wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle wiggle, yeah!

Huzzah!!!!!!!!!!! I am completely exultant.

I was at P’s place last night, and despite it being only a week away in Melbourne, P was very affectionate, verbally and physically. And I got presents! Well, I like them. I can understand why most people, even other dentists or dental students, would think toothpaste, toothbrushes, mouthwash, and retractors might not be the best present, but they’re conference swag!

Sidebar: Swag in the proper sense of the word, like goodies they give away. Not the one that’s an abbreviation for “swagger” and has that has superseded “epic” and “literally” in excessive usage. Oh and “yolo”. *shudder*

Anyway, bottom line: IT WAS SAID. I was teasing, talking about the fit and cute tutors in a histology lab, and we were joking about why would anyone be doing a degree in anatomy (P: there’s no money, me: they’re too attractive). I can’t remember the exact lead-up, but this happened:

P: You know, I love you for more than your body and –

me: (interrupting) Wait. Wait, what? … You love me?

(pregnant pause)

P: I’ve gone and freaked you out, haven’t I?

me: No, no. I’m happy… But what about what you said last year? (when P said they weren’t sure they’d ever been in love)

P: Well, I know that when I don’t see you, I miss you. And when I see you, I’m happy.


P: (as if to carry on) ..It’s ok –

me: (interrupting with a kiss) I love you too.

Aha!!!!!!!! Houston, we have contact!!! Wheeeeeee!!!!!

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about broaching the topic of having children at least three times after, but I held my tongue. It’s a new thing I’m trying, restraint. Instead, I got a bit of practice saying “I love you” a couple of times later that night. Yes, I’m immensely happy, even this morning after. To me, that was better than any movie. Suck it, The Notebook!

That’s all.


Derailed by Meconium

I finished that assignment 2 days and 3 hours late. I don’t know what it is. I drag my feet on an assignment, dreading how awful and gruesome it will be, but without fail, once I get into it, I’m immersed. Once I complete it, I look back and think, “That wasn’t so bad. Not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.”

I do not understand these strong avoidance tendencies I have. I (and nearly every other uni student, I suspect) employ all manner of distraction to avoid study and assignments. The house needs vacuuming and mopping, the dishes should be done, I need more study food, these tweets from @TheMaleNanny are hilarious so I must read them ALL, with his tumblr, oh look his mate theguyliner has such fascinating dates, let’s read them ALL, good AND bad.

Oh. and the absolute classic method: one more episode, then I’ll start. Oh those crazy kids. Namely, me. Do you know what the assignment’s topic was? Dental anxiety. Oh, the goddamn irony.

Anyway. Now that the immediate assessments are cleared, I can catch up on notes and study, do some banking, set up appointments and get onto the car insurance people. Also, I discovered the old Toyota Corolla won’t start. I need to sell you! I should have sold it back in January, but to be fair, we were moving house and Dad demurred, saying he and Mum would need it when they came to visit. Must ask around for some jump cables.

I went for some late night cuddles. P was wearing these PJ bottoms and a sunshiney yellow t-shirt with Chewbacca in Kanye West’s Stronger sunglasses. Definitely cute. P seems to be more keen on to meet up and see me during the week, which is nice. I was so supremely content in that moment, despite the grim and bleak Christmas episode of BBC’s Call the Midwife. (Honestly, I can’t wrap my head around Miranda Hart being serious! and so posh.) In my head, ran the following exchange:

Pro side: Just say it. It’s easy. It’s a good moment. Use your words. I. Love. You.

Con side: Are you insane?! P could start thinking, “What the hell? Run away!!”

Pro side: No P won’t! You can add a little sigh at the end with a smile. It’ll be endearing. You’re already in P’s arms.

Con side: Yeah, right up until P says, “I …don’t feel the same, sorry. We should stop seeing each other.” Oh look, she’s just given birth. Popped it right out.

Pro side: What was that first poop a baby makes called? The really gross one?

Con side: Let’s ask P.

And with that, despite some minor skirmishes later, the main argument for whether or not to say the weighty ILY was derailed by meconium. (Might I suggest the more weak of heart and those eating not click the link.) Yes yes, it’s nice that our backgrounds allow for us to remain unfazed by such things, but it certainly isn’t the environment in which you want to bring forth the first I Love You.

So I settled for this. Yeah, I’m chickenshit.

The mission:

1. Say I Love You.

2. Get P to say it back.

3. Slowly change P’s attitude on having children. Or just one. We could do just one. Yes! Good strategy.

4. Oh and get my life sorted all this week as I have it off.