There is nothing like running
into an ex at the Greenhills Shopping Center; and sharing a few rounds of drinks.
I think it so weird now that while I was driving home, I had a million things
on my mind on what to post and now that I’m in front of the computer my mind’s
So, I ran into my ex and we had a
few drinks. It was awkward. I can’t tell who was more stunned to see who. It was
awkward and it was weird. Weird because I’ve seen him a few times after I’ve
gotten back and it didn’t really seem awkward then. Post romantic stress
syndrome kicked in – again; and for the third time in my life, I was
speechless. He said “hi” and all I did
was sit there like a stupid mute.
In the few nano seconds it took
for my potent intellect to process the encounter, I fell for him for the nth
time. I seriously couldn’t look at him. Ms. Abbey was all shook up and she didn’t
know what to say; mixed feelings of happiness and trepidation nga daw. Yep. Despite his worst efforts,
I am still completely taken by him.
It’s been a little over a week
since then and I have replayed every single word, every single detail and as
pragmatic as I am, have pondered over every nuance of every word and gesture
during the hour and a half that we, or rather I, pretended to be friends. Maybe
I wouldn’t be thinking of him at all if Ron hadn’t given us a whammy and asked
me, in front of my ex, after 4 margaritas, if I still wanted him (my ex) back. It
must have taken me a whole five minutes to answer that question. During which,
no one spoke. They waited in suspended animation. Like the fate of the whole human
race depends on what I have to say.
I know I shouldn’t be distressing
about this. I’m just thinking, maybe if I write about it, I’ll get it out of my
system. I am now thinking that I should have made that ballsy move and told him
how I felt. Maybe, even if it wouldn’t change anything, I’d feel better because
at least he got to know what I think. Then again, the window for bold gestures
has long since been closed. *Sigh* This is the problem with me. I ask myself
questions, answer them, and then contradict them; all in warp speed. This makes
me think I’m already cuckoo and I don’t even have to convince my friends.
Whatever I do, I always regret it after.
I’ll try to reconnect with the
very disconnected person after the bar exams. Now isn’t really the time to reflect
upon such trifling things anyway. Maybe after three more months I’d have
completely flushed him out of my system and I can be normal again. Or just
maybe strut up to him rocking a cool new hairstyle and ask him back, point