I snorted. Then I scoff.
Tsk.
I can’t help it. I remember all the emotions, the memories from then. I remember the way I felt when I put the things, the memories into words.
I study the way it felt about how things happened at 3 AM. The boy I liked. The boy I didn’t like. Guilt, embarrassment, disappointment.
I remember Andy, and the sadness that it filled me up with after. The whole gentle rejection which probably was worse than a clearcut rejection. And my obsession with it that I couldn’t talk about anything else except that with friends. What’s fascinating is that within a few months, I (re)met Chris and things were fine. Yet, I do remember what happened when I ran into Andy and Moira. There was a feeling of—why? Why didn’t it work out? Why when she was already around? Why didn’t he choose me? It bothers me that he had to end up that way. But I remember the coldness that I couldn’t help but exude when I ran into Ian and the crew on Valencia. “Oh hello,” I said, just exchanging polite smiles. Then “oh goodbye” I said as I was leaving.
Then I remember Cheez and Tanner. Oh Cheez. I think that I had always liked him, in his cool comedic way. His tallness. His dark brunette hair contrasted with pale skin. He made me laugh all the time. And if one was to think of my standards, he wasn’t matching my educational standards or intellectual rigor. and yet. So I decided that it was ok to be with the friend. Which was a mistake anyway.
It’s 13 years later. And yesterday night sitting in the Courtyard Marriott, I reminiscenced a bit with Cheez over Facebook messenger. I repeated some of the words that I wrote about August 2003 with Shipra. How silly it all was. But to me then, it wasn’t really all silly. I was being the person that I only knew how to be. I was all me and so much more.