Gone With My Whimsical Acts

My back’s aching – not aching actually,  scratching. Not even scratching; it’s itching, but slightly. It’s not as if I have to tear down my clothes and rip through the itching area. My back never allows me to do so nor does it give me a chance to do so either.

I was thinking about the times I spent with my ex-boyfriend (Harry). Oh he did not scratch my back, but he did excite me no end. I was so happy being with him. Of course, had it not been for my break-up before I met Harry, I would have still been with him. I broke up with Harry because I realized I wasn’t over the ass I had dated before him.

Today, as I sat in the bus and listened to a Philharmonic Orchestra playing Christmas carols, I began to drift back in time to the days Harry and I were dating. We would meet at places in Bandra and we did coochie-coo like rabbits.

Sigh! I miss intimacy. I miss it like hell. It’s the one thing that I hankered after for so long and when it did come my way, because I was in a skewed state of mind, I dumped it and how! I called Harry and broke up with him on the phone!

Silly of me, really, but then I have reason to say that this is just one of the numerous silly deeds I have participated in in the 30 years of my life here on Earth.

The Denial

This boyfriend of mine can’t just leave me in peace. I sent him a stinker and told him in no unclear terms to get out of my life. Yet, just as I stopped talking about him to all and sundry, he goes right ahead and discusses me with a common friend and claims he knows me very well.

That is so untrue. If he knew me well, he would never have left me and behaved like a complete idiot.

Anyway, I denied any knowledge of him when that friend asked me about the fellow. I said I don’t know him at all. And it is a fact: I don’t know him and I never knew him at all.

For if I knew him, I would not even associate myself with him.

The End

A bright new day sailed in this morning. And with it it brought me the realization that my boyfriend that was has moved on and I have to move on too.

I spoke to him yesterday and we were sailing smoothly till we began to talk about sex. I as usual rattled off whatever I had been doing. And then I pointed out that I never get to know his exploits at all.

Well he explained that he thought I get all jealous of his sexual escapades and so he was refraining from telling me.

Well, I said, now that I know he doesn’t like me emotionally and sexually, I had might as well hear it from him.

That was a big mistake. BIG mistake, really.

He had slept with two people after we broke up and according to him they both were worth the wait that ensues after you fix up a sex appointment.

With the first man, he had sex thrice on the same day and the moment I heard that, I turned white and went cold.

With the second, he loved every bit of it and then came the news that this second guy was the one he had refused to sleep with when he was dating me.

All this was told to me with an eagerness of a child exploring a new world without any idea of the havoc it can cause should its explorations go wrong.

You can imagine how I felt. I was in a total state of shock.  I still managed to say I must move on given the fact that he had, already.

And then he threw a bomb. He said it would do me a whole lot of good to see a shrink.

I refused and I told him I’ll handle it the way I want to.

He said okay and I had lost all intention of talking to him anymore.

I was in a state of shock and was thoroughly robbed of my senses. Yet, I managed to say I need to sleep for I had to come to work the other day. And so saying, I hung up.

Well, it’s the end – definitely the end. There can be no sequel now whatsoever for this chapter. I don’t love him anymore, I hate him for not even realizing the harm and devastation he caused, and I never ever want to speak to that rotten piece of flesh anymore.

I Love Him, but – maybe – He Loves Me Not.

My boyfriend messaged me yesternight. My ex-boyfriend that is. All he said was my poems get better and that he had no clue I weigh 45 kgs. This after I had abused him to his face in a long magnificently acrid letter to him a month ago.

Well I tried calling him but his number wasn’t available. I tried four times and since that is the maximum number of times he would allow me to try calling him, I typed him an SMS.

I said I wasn’t sorry for the abuse I sent him, but I was humbled that he did message me even after that. I then added that I remembered him and the 2.5 hours for which we would meet so often, that I am close to giving up all attempts at partial amnesia.

I don’t think he’ll call me back. He never has ever since we broke up in all finality. It was always I who did that dirty work. And today was no exception.

You think I love him? Hell, yes, I do. I miss his blunt words, his rude behaviour, his deadpan expression when I asked him for sex, his deadpan being in bed when we tried to make out – I miss him, yes I do.

And I will go back to him only if he just says he wants me. This is sheer madness – I know – and part of me wants to fight the feeling off and not go back to him.

However, I as a whole being, am tired of fighting. I love him and it’s no sin to love. Yes, chances are my love will remain unrequited and if he doesn’t want me back, over the years I will move on.

But for now, I still have the same feelings for him that I had when we were dating.

The Defence Mechanism

It always begins with me longing to be with him again. I have these bouts of remembrances and these bouts make me feel a little happy when I think of him.

I remember the days we dated – at least the dates that were really memorable – and those memories bring in some more recollections.

I then start to remember the days we spent at the University pond, sitting and talking. The days we were at the Inorbit Mall also walk back into my mind and I can see it all – crystal clear as if it were all happening in front of me right now.

I then sigh and think I must call him. And it’s then that a storm of memories about his most violently annoying actions and deeds hits me.

I still remember the day he bluntly told me not to call him often. I also remember he called me a dependent bugger – as if my affection for him were a disease. And worst of all, I remember his attachment to his best friend. It was this attachment that threw me into a fiery frenzy one day. He would make allowances for that friend of his but not for me. On top of that, I had to listen to this whole sermon about how that friend is forever gonna be there and how lovers just come and go.

I asked him whether he treated me as just another lover who has arrived and may go anytime. He said no and the manner in which he said it confirmed what I thought he thought of me.

It was all downhill then and we crashed into a separation in December.

I remember all of this and I stop myself from calling him. I realize then I am worthy of better things and better human beings too.

So you see it’s a sweeping royal mood swing. It leaves me rather shaken at times – rather it did leave me shaken and completely at sea as to how to handle it.

But then I learnt to remember how badly he treated me and grew a resistance to this urge to call him just one more time.

Now, the defence mechanism kicks in automatically and I am shaken but not to the extent I was initially.

I guess it’s true – this saying: One lives, one errs, one learns.