Somewhere in Singapore, Ms Y tells someone about you. That in her eyes you were suave, stubborn, bad-tempered yet charming. She would tell them how you stole her heart and how you broke it too. She goes on and describes your three years together, army, night cycling, chocolate buffets, sunflowers and trips together. She made plans for you to be her one and only, a future together, a home, a flat to be specific, children and dogs even. You disappointed her.
You called her decent, you said communication had become obligatory towards the end and you said getting together with her could be said as "convenient".
.
Although sitting through stories of the ex-gf is painful, I am ever so grateful that you tell me about what's on your mind when it comes to her. Your friend S told you she made it to become the company's top performers. You said leaving you was perhaps what made this success happened for her. I sat quietly, stared out of the window and tucked my hands under my thigh. I was trying to take it as a normal conversation, and for you, it probably was. Somehow this grown-up world defined by money and success seems even further away from me. I bit my lip as I struggled not to encourage contact, at the back of my brain I was thinking "tell him to congratulate her", but my mouth only formed the words "...have you...congratulated her..?". You said you probably would, I kicked myself for asking. *mental note to self - Don't encourage contact.
What did you make of my silence in the car I wonder? Did you sense my silent rebellion? I doubt so, and you rattle on half in effort to fill the silence, half maybe to comfort me.
"S asked me if I regretted breaking up with her, I said No," you added. You said there comes a point in the relationship whereby couples meet each other because they have to, not because they want to. It was like that for you, with her. I looked at you, and all I could think of was that it must have been the novelty, it worn off for you. I quickly shook the thoughts out of my head.
I meekly and in an off-tangent manner said: "My heart still skips a beat when I meet you." You laughed, and for a moment the conversation ended.
Yes of course, insecurity is the root of this evil, but here I am as a student, dutifully spoilt by you monetarily till I got use to it, till I feel like I need to break away. I was living the life/the relationship you had in the days of Ms Y. Sometimes you tell me, for better or for worst, I am your karma, because I reminded you of the days you spent as a student.
At this point of time, I can only guess that the insecurity goes away as age catches up, as I transit into the next working dimension and as we prove to be able to weather storms together.
Until then, Ms Y and her stories, will stay as a little prick in my heart. A prick that digs deeper everytime I try to pull it out.
And so, I wish for Ms Y to be just someone you use to know.
