EPTFrom the beginning I could see the obvious warning signs. I never previously thought I could accept a mixed-race relationship. She changed my mind on that unexpectedly easily. I could get over another culture, another background. I would have been willing to sacrifice so much. The absence of extended talk between us bode poorly on something more. Yet fully aware of these inhibitions, I readily cast them aside.
I had a dream one night in which she reciprocated my affection. It was just a short, simple text message; she didn’t even appear. But it was perhaps the single most euphoric moment I’ve ever had. My joy ended quickly when I woke up shortly after. I lay in bed gloomily, more or less in my default mood, and willed myself back to sleep to forget all about it. I realize just now how long it has been since I was so happy. I had forgotten how this emotion felt. But it would only come in a dream. Later I checked my phone inbox just to make sure.
I probed with advances, but they fell flat. It was not that I could not let her go – I didn’t want to let her go. I did not want to give up too early and lose the opportunity. I had to exhaust all possibilities and exit with no regrets.
Her value was too overwhelming to be passed up easily. Even I was intimidated by her brilliance, which I found attractive. It was almost too good to be true that she was still single. Actually, it was. Today after class in our circle she mentioned her boyfriend for the first time. She described the relationship as on and off – and now it was on. My head turned to look at her in light of this new revelation. It caught me by surprise. A wave of confusion and disappointment washed over me. My brain stumbled for answers.
I had good reason to believe when I first met her that any such status was “off”. Maybe I missed the slim window of opportunity. Maybe I was too slow, too docile, too subtle. Maybe I read the signs all wrong. But surely there was something there. Maybe I’ll never know. What a silly boy, wasting so much time dwelling on this doomed endeavour.
We dispersed. Then a sense of liberation slowly encroached on me. No more obsessions, no more doubts. The dark fog cleared from my heart. I did my part. It was clearly the time to let her go, to call off the chase. Like pokemon youngster said, “I did my best. I have no regrets.”
She was just so ... perfect. Will the liberation last? Maybe until the next time I recklessly plunge into another ill-advised infatuation phase I am prone to. I expect the jeers to come about my creepy, stalkerish behaviour. My inexperience with women shows. I know it will be seen as an unhealthy obsession indicative of some serious psychological deficit. But aware of this advice, I would do the same thing again.
I used to keep winning in the things that mattered. Now it seems I can’t stop losing.
