Rain

20091208

I woke up from a dream of Gloria Y. again today. Or I think I did - I don't actually remember what it was about.

But I knew.

I knew in the way people just know things in dreams. I knew that me and Gloria were sharing time together. I knew that it was a kind of intimate moment. The kind that she probably wished we had more of. The kind I wished we had more of, back then.

But I also know that it doesn't mean anything. To me, dreams don't tell you anything new. They take from what you have and play around with it. How you interpret it is up to you. Does this dream mean that I still have feelings for Gloria? That I still care and want to be with her? Or is it merely replaying my longing and unrest at the time? To some degree, it's all true. Which one is it? Probably none of them. I admit I do care for Gloria, in the same way I care for most of my friends. I care that I've hurt her and then ignored her. I even blamed her for what happened, and not getting over it. That she was being naive for thinking I was special just because I showed her a little attention.

We can't help who we end up falling for.

I used to think you could get over anyone. That it only took time and patience. I've done it time and time again, why not? But I can understand now, what Gloria had to go through. Or is still going through? I won't hope for that. I admit, for a while after we broke up, I was happy that I was still her center of attention. It made me feel wanted in a way that I've rarely felt in my life. I would still talk to her from time, whenever she'd call me. Unless I was with Beverly - then I'd put it off until I was by myself (this was before me and Bev got serious). I've grown to take it for granted, but at the same time I wanted her to let go. To move on.

It was selfish.

I could do nothing for her. I had a girlfriend; even if I wanted to help her or comfort her, I have a responsibility to my girlfriend first. I tried to explain that to her. That I cared for her wellbeing, that the only way for her to be happy was to move on. That I could do nothing more than be her friend, and be there when I was free. But that time began to disappear as my girlfriend and I became closer. Soon I had no time for her at all; I basically ignored her calls because I was with my girlfriend most of the time. At first, I would squeeze in a call to her after class was over, before I saw my girlfriend again. They were short, and I knew she wanted to talk. But I did not have the time without my girlfriend wondering where I was. Later, I just stopped calling her at all. I told myself that I wanted her to have some space; to be herself again. But really, I just didn't have the time and wouldn't make the effort.

That's when I blamed her. I blamed her for not getting over me. For not being able to let go. But at the same time, I didn't want her to. I still wanted to be important to someone. Looking back on my high school years, I always thought I was the victim. First, Emily L., then Nancy L., and then Gloria and Jenny Y. Even Melissa L. I always thought that fate had wronged me. That God had wronged me - that I was to have a depressing love life. That I was truly pitiful. Am I really the victim? I've drawn so many parallels with Gloria that I can only blame myself.

Maybe I am the naive one after all.

Now, Gloria seems to have gotten over it. Or maybe she has become so good at feigning it, that I can no longer tell. I am still a long way from that; I get carried away too easily. I hope it is the former and not the latter. God is so utterly ironic. Of my two biggest problems, with Nancy and Gloria, I have come to relive both of them personally. Humbling, but painful.

In any case, my relationship with Gloria has waned since Spring. Our conversations, when we have them, have dulled. Her excitement and personality that used to captivate me is gone; she is a little more reserved than what I'm used to. Funny how Jenny said the exact same thing of me. I wonder sometimes what my best course of action is. My ideas about rebuilding our relationship and helping Gloria return to what she used to be are attractive, but then I think about my own situation and start to wallow. Jenny is very likely doing the exact same thing.

We all smile our fake smiles, and pretend nothing is wrong.

In any case, I did not think much of that dream. Just memories and feelings of me and my girlfriend, mixed in with images of Gloria in her place. That's what it all is: reaffirming our intimacy. It's easier to believe that, especially when I awaken to see her next to me.

I saw a few pictures of Melissa on Facebook a couple of days ago. Why am I talking about this? I don't know. Maybe because I know she is reading this right now. It was very striking; I haven't actually seen her in person for a very long time. Almost a year, now. I try to make plans, when we're both in town, but they never work out.

It stood out. Not the picture itself, but the fact that it's been so long since I've seen her. She hasn't really changed; in fact, she looks a lot more like what I remembered than her recent pictures. Come to think of it, I am not sure why I am so piqued by those pictures, since she occasionally sends me some (such a camwhore). Probably because they WERE so similar to what I remembered her as.

Either way, I talk to her way more on AIM - perhaps even by phone - than I actually see her. I suppose I am in no rush to see her in person, or to hang out. Perhaps she even prefers it this way; it seems like a huge inconvenience for her to physically hang out with me. I only remember coming to her house once to hang out. And that ended up with me going out a window, so I can't comment much on that. I'm nothing special, anyway. We talk on AIM and share in each other's problems from time to time, and I don't expect much more than that.

The photos were of a banquet or some sort. She was in a dress and looked quite pretty. Sophisticated almost; intelligent. It's the kind of look that I want her to go for, but is probably far from what she wants. I must make a few recommendations, though: glass frames that match your hair and lose the fake smiles. Maybe a small smile, or a real smile, but fake smiles are the worst. I think a slight curve of the lips is sufficient. An I-know-something-you-don't would be perfect.

I'm oddly reminded of our senior prom. Yes, yes, it was awkward but I think before that, it was mostly fun. Melissa had, for better or worse, no one she wanted to take. She did list off to me a few potentials, I think, maybe to rub in how un-special I was, or to dash any ideas I had about the subject. Not that it made much of a difference. Nevertheless, she asked me to go with her. At the time, we had only known each other for a few months, no more than five. I don't think we talked much in school, but we certainly did talk a LOT on AIM. I have no idea what force of nature convinced her that I was an acceptable date, or one that she was willing to go with senior prom to, but I digress. I actually declined, at first, because I had promised my friend Jennifer S. to take her to junior prom. I, who have never went to junior prom, was even more reluctant to go to senior prom because I did not know many of my class. Even less so Melissa, or any of her friends. One of them was surprised, the day of, that I turned out to be a decent date, since she seemed to think I would be "aloof and distant." I think she felt sorry that Melissa had to take me to the dance, and I certainly did get the feeling that I was the last minute stand-in. I don't blame her, though; I mostly kept to myself and rarely talked to them before senior prom. I was still an introverted loner, though things haven't progressed much since then.

I didn't make any plans for it at all; the person I wanted to go with said no and so I had planned to take Jennifer. But it turned out it was too expensive and so we fell back on other plans (which we never did, Jenn reminded me disapprovingly one day). So I asked Melissa if she had a date. She replied, probably sullenly, with a no and so that was that. I wanted to go to a prom, if just for the experience, and she wanted a date.

Luckily, she and her group had it all planned. (I wouldn't know what I would do if I had to do it myself.) All I had to do was cough up the money, show up, and pretend like I was having a good time. But for some reason, I didn't want to show up and just pretend. I wanted to have a good time, period. I knew, ahead of time, the people we were going in the limo with, so I made sure I was on friendly terms with them. It wasn't too difficult, since I sat next to them in class. In fact, I sat right behind Melissa, so I made it a point to at least get to know her. Somewhere between my getting to know her well enough to be comfortable and the prom itself, I got caught up. She would ask me to and I would help her pore over dresses online, despite my homework. That my opinion, for what it's worth, on dresses was being seriously requested was something I looked forward to giving. It's a sad sort of bonding that I would probably not have gotten otherwise: looking at and giving opinions on dresses that would look good on her. Like going clothes shopping, minus the mall and walking.

And the being there.

For most of the experience, I clung to her. I didn't know anyone else in our group that well, and as soon as we got there, we were pretty much left to our own devices. We danced and took breaks and walked around and talked and ate. (We actually fed each other once, I think, but it was hardly as suggestive as I would believe it to be now.) The dancing was alright. Hell if I know how to dance... I just moved around with the rhythm of the music. I guess that's what high school dancing is: holding hands and moving around. Then there's dancing, which some can, and then there's public indecency, in which I won't go in to. She insists to me, to this day, that those slow dances were the closest she ever got to a guy (at the time). That may very well have been true but my spatial senses told me there was a giant chasm between us. I wasn't aloof about THAT, and I made it a point to bridge that on the last dance. I could feel her pushing against my hand with her back, like she wanted to get away badly, but it was the last dance so I didn't care too much. It was Backstreet Boys so, I mean, c'mon.

I admit that I sung with the chorus. And that I actually knew the words. You can ask Melissa to verify that.

It was nice. I'll have fond memories of it. I can't say much on her part; she was probably terrified by the end of the dancing. HAHA. Not my fault, of course. ;)

The weather has gotten really cold today. I woke up to find a howling gale, complete with rain. Not thinking, I put on my trench coat and walked outside. In sandals.

Sandals.

I'm retarded.

It's not like it's the first time I've done it, either, but hopefully it will be the last. And it wasn't like I had time to go back and change because I had an engineering final in the morning that I needed to go to.

On another note, my girlfriend's sister and/or brother-in-law think I'm like a chubby bunny.

They mean it in a cute way, but I'm getting very self-conscious about my weight.

I haven't been able to maintain my weight like I used to back in Fremont. I don't get to play badminton every day of the week anymore, either, so I basically have stopped exercising. On top of that, I eat more because it's easy to get. I really hate myself right now, for not being able to maintain my weight. I come back to Fremont and lose two or three lbs, only to return her and gain it all in a few HOURS.

HOURS, PEOPLE.

I fear coming back to Fremont and wondering what my friends will think. No one will say anything, of course, but I know they're probably thinking it. I know I would.

I had something else to write about but it's getting late. I suppose I will do it next time.