The Game We Played

You told me you thought we would have been done with each other long time ago. I told you I have never intended to drag this on.

You have all types of reputation. I did the background check, and came in prepared. You thought I was a softy at the beginning, I turned out to be more of a challenge than what you signed up for. We both play this game longer that we expect.

My friend told me: "You're digging your own grave." You told me: "Pshh. I'm digging my own grave." I guess we somehow ended up in the ditch together?

Honestly, I think we probably just came into each other's life at the point where we had been hurt, moved on, and were determined never to be hurt again. We withdraw our hearts from the table, and gamble with something else. I'm not sure what it is, but I feel like it costs us even more than our hearts. I'm playing the cool and heartless girl who seems to know how to play her game. You're playing the sweet and gentle player who knows exactly how to treat a girl, like me. Everything we did was planned. Every text messages we sent had its purpose. And we kept the ball alternate between our courts.

Honesty and frankness. Those are the reasons why we like each other. I told you about other guys I was involved with. You didn't mind the competition. I knew about the other girls you kept handy, and you never denied about them. We set the golden rules - "Don't ask, don't tell". We were precisely what other people called: friends with benefits.

Somewhere along the way, however, you were distracted. Your attention was no longer on me. I got bothered, and I was … afraid that I had been sucked into this game more than I wanted. So I backed out. I cut you out of my life effortlessly because I believed I was strong, and I always managed to rationalize myself out of situations like these.

Easy come, easy go, ... and easy back. After months of no communication and no words exchanged, you suddenly came back into my life. You said you missed me, and despite how hard you tried, you couldn't forget me, and you wanted me back. I turned you away, but somewhere in my heart, I fell like I found something I'd been missing all along.

2a.m. I was alone in my room, feeling lonelier and more rejected than ever. Suddenly, I knew I wanted you back in my life. I texted you, and within no time, you were next to me. I was back in your arms, and your kisses, once more, belonged to me only. I knew then that it was going to take me time to let go of those emotions.

After everything that has happened, I felt like this time, we appreciated each other more. I still had my guard up, but more than often, I slipped. And you, too, were letting your guard down. For the last two weeks, we enjoyed each other company to the fullest. We were acting too much like a couple it scared both of us. But at the same time, time was ticking away. I couldn't get enough of your kisses, and I wished you didn't have to leave early in the mornings. I hung on to the smell of you, lingering on me and between my sheets. You, likewise, would not take me home before sunrise. 

The day I left, you refused to spend the night with me, afraid that you would "do something stupid or say something stupid." You did not want to let that armor of confidence down and showed me that vulnerable side of yours. But you did, anyway. I definitely felt something different in your goodbye kisses, whether you wanted to show your emotions or not. And, miles and miles away, my heart skipped a beat when I read your letter, telling me that you had lost this dating game - you fell for me.

My mind and body rejected the idea, though. I felt sick in my stomach. My head told me this was another one of your playboy's trick. I was confused.

If you, the ultimate playboy, told me you were in love (and even using Samantha as the role model), what would I do now? I was counting on you, jerk. You told me all this because you know I was leaving you? Asshole. 

I am so used to going to sleep and waking up with someone next to me, and you were one of the people who contributed to that habit. I hate that you watched my favorite show and knew it so well, now every time I watch it, I think of you. I hate that you spoiled me to the point that now I can't enjoy any luxury without you in my mind. And I hate that you are so good at kissing and other things that I yearn for those more than anything.

The game we played is over. You lost the game, but I'm not entirely sure if I won.

Now what next? Half time? Should we play another one? Or should we just quit and admit that we both had lost?

[az]

No Strings Attached

It wasn't the best movie I have seen. As a matter of fact, it is not that great, and the ending is completely predictable. Even Natalie Portman as the main actress couldn't save it.

 However, it is a movie that I can certainly relate myself with.  I watched it on the plane home, while going through everything that has happened to me the past year in my head and trying to rationalize myself out of the situations, as always.  Such perfect timing, ironically.

I imagine myself as Emma some years later, working 80 hours a week, buried myself in the Emergency Room with no life. Possible, very possible, that if I can make it through med school.

I laugh at what she says, because I, myself, have said similar things:

"May be we should establish ground rules. No lying, no jealousy, no emergeny contact."

" No starring deeply into each other's eyes."

" Don't call me in the afternoon and just say I am thinking about you."

Immediately, I thought:    No, Emma, you were just trying to shield your heart from the possibility of being broken, the same way I protect mine.

But sometimes, your heart takes over, and you do things that later on you'll beat yourself about it, thinking "Why on earthy did I do something like that?"

Emma: [reads card] You give me premature ventricular contractions.

Adam: I'm assuming that's a good thing.

Emma: You make my heart skip a beat. 

And when you have to confront the confession, you get scared. You become cynical, laughing things off, pushing people away and turning on your "denial" mode:

"Adam, you're wonderful. If you're lucky you're never gonna see me again"

"Yeah, talking. Communicating. Relationship stuff. If we were in a relationship I would become a weird scary version of myself. My throat starts constricting. The walls start throbbing. It's like a peanut allergy, like an emotional peanut allergy"

"No. Things were getting too intense so we decided not to see each other until we hook up with other people" 

However,  one day, you realize that, deep inside your heart, the relationship you have is more than just "sex friends", "friends with benefits", or "fuck buddies". And out of the sudden, you want to pick up the phone and call him just to tell him:

"I miss you. I miss you so much"

The movie ends the conventional way, as many other romantic comedies that I have digested. But I had tears in my eyes, because, despite how much I want to, I just can't bring myself to pick up the phone and tell him how much I miss him.

I'm not ready to purchase two boxes of 50 doughnut holes to get over my broken heart. 
I'm not ready to be hurt, yet.

 [az]