Thursday, October 28, 2004
The First Goodbye
Wednesday night
R. was the first person I cared about in Malaysia and the first person I had to say goodbye to. He leaves this afternoon to go to Bangkok and is supposed to be back at 10:30 pm Sunday; I leave at 11 pm. I may try to go to his gate, if I don't already have to be on the plane, though that might make things more difficult.
My eyes hurt today from the tears shed last night (and my head from the alcohol!). I saw a lot of him in first few months, probably was a bit dependent on him, since he was my first (boy)friend (and only friend for a month!). After that, spurts of contact. And I nearly lost touch with him last month after a text message tiff/misunderstanding. Thankfully, we put that (our egos mostly) behind us. Now we can joke about what was said then, which I think we both meant to an extent, though things got carried away. And it was on SMS, an easy venue to have miscommunication, with no way to determine tone and inflection.
I was lucky enough he was able (and willing!) to spend the day with me (and Terri). We had a Japanese lunch, with sushi passing us by on the conveyor belt, wandered the Megamall, played some pool and fooze ball. He even took us along to see his mom and 4 year old nephew before he jets away tomorrow for a few days. We played a game of Snakes and Ladders (it was always Chutes and Ladders when I was growing up!) and I came out the big loser!
The bag of pasta and jar of sauce that's been in my cupboard since January finally gotten eaten last night. In the midst of the emotions and drinks and pasta, I found out R. lied about something that mattered a lot to me when I was in Sabah for Christmas. It made my already miserable time, more miserable. And he did admitted he did it because he knew it would hurt me.
Things could have been a lot different...
The evening also reminded me how the same events and conversations are interpreted and remembered differently by different people.
Before I got out of the car, with U2 as backup music, I muttered something and was surprised to hear myself saying the word love. I didn't hear the normal, short words that typically precede and follow it and hoped it had gotten lost in the mumble and tears. But as I went to get out, he called me back.
"Jill. I love you, too."
Wow. I've only heard those words from (and said it to) one person besides "those legally required to say it to me" (a quote from Almost Famous) and my female friends.
I didn't really say it, did I? And did I actually claim OUT LOUD that I hadn't said it? Tacky and rude! Did he say it again even after that? I can't remember.
Had I meant it? Romantic or platonic? Or "I love the time we spent together?" As I think about it now, I don't know.
And what's the big deal, anyway?
The first time I said it, in the rocky fields of the Irish Aran Islands, surrounded by cows, was more than nine months into my first (and only) relationship. It seemed like such an important moment. And was very well planned and rehearsed.
This time...massive mumblings from Malaysia.
Wednesday night
R. was the first person I cared about in Malaysia and the first person I had to say goodbye to. He leaves this afternoon to go to Bangkok and is supposed to be back at 10:30 pm Sunday; I leave at 11 pm. I may try to go to his gate, if I don't already have to be on the plane, though that might make things more difficult.
My eyes hurt today from the tears shed last night (and my head from the alcohol!). I saw a lot of him in first few months, probably was a bit dependent on him, since he was my first (boy)friend (and only friend for a month!). After that, spurts of contact. And I nearly lost touch with him last month after a text message tiff/misunderstanding. Thankfully, we put that (our egos mostly) behind us. Now we can joke about what was said then, which I think we both meant to an extent, though things got carried away. And it was on SMS, an easy venue to have miscommunication, with no way to determine tone and inflection.
I was lucky enough he was able (and willing!) to spend the day with me (and Terri). We had a Japanese lunch, with sushi passing us by on the conveyor belt, wandered the Megamall, played some pool and fooze ball. He even took us along to see his mom and 4 year old nephew before he jets away tomorrow for a few days. We played a game of Snakes and Ladders (it was always Chutes and Ladders when I was growing up!) and I came out the big loser!
The bag of pasta and jar of sauce that's been in my cupboard since January finally gotten eaten last night. In the midst of the emotions and drinks and pasta, I found out R. lied about something that mattered a lot to me when I was in Sabah for Christmas. It made my already miserable time, more miserable. And he did admitted he did it because he knew it would hurt me.
Things could have been a lot different...
The evening also reminded me how the same events and conversations are interpreted and remembered differently by different people.
Before I got out of the car, with U2 as backup music, I muttered something and was surprised to hear myself saying the word love. I didn't hear the normal, short words that typically precede and follow it and hoped it had gotten lost in the mumble and tears. But as I went to get out, he called me back.
"Jill. I love you, too."
Wow. I've only heard those words from (and said it to) one person besides "those legally required to say it to me" (a quote from Almost Famous) and my female friends.
I didn't really say it, did I? And did I actually claim OUT LOUD that I hadn't said it? Tacky and rude! Did he say it again even after that? I can't remember.
Had I meant it? Romantic or platonic? Or "I love the time we spent together?" As I think about it now, I don't know.
And what's the big deal, anyway?
The first time I said it, in the rocky fields of the Irish Aran Islands, surrounded by cows, was more than nine months into my first (and only) relationship. It seemed like such an important moment. And was very well planned and rehearsed.
This time...massive mumblings from Malaysia.
