Who wants to cast the first stone at me?

Are you ready for a bedtime story? This post might be a little long because it seems like we’re trying to make up for lost time.

I previously mentioned that we didn’t talk for five months because of that massive fight that we had. And how my friends all seemed to start taking his side because he tried to talk to me three times but I snubbed him. I still think he could have tried a little harder but oh well…

Those five months were a living hell. My moods were extremely affected, and I was so down in the dumps. Physically, I felt this dull ache in my heart that wouldn’t go away no matter how I tried. Everyday, I battled with myself whether I should text him because I really wanted to. Yet another side of me held me back because you know, I’m such a prideful person.

So I didn’t like who I was becoming and wanted a distraction. I thought about taking some art course but that would mean there was a high chance that I’d run into him (and a part of me really wanted that). So I texted him. Asking if he was teaching this course called mixed media. He said no, and asked why I wanted to take that course and advised against it. And then we started chatting. First about the courses, and then slowly, about everything else.

I struggled internally for a week to decide if I’d sign up for one of his classes. A part of me wanted to avoid him, but a bigger part (I shamefully admit), yearned to see him again. In the end, I did sign up for his class- Soft Pastel. We decided that we’d pretend to be strangers (to not complicate matters). So strangers we were. The first week passed by rather uneventfully, so I thought that would be it for the next seven weeks. But ah, someone has grand plans for us it seems. I also joked that we’re like secret lovers because in class we pretend to be strangers, but we secretly meet in the carpark after everyone else has vacated.

Now, we were back to normal. It’s as if the five months of silence didn’t happen. In fact, it seemed like we were better than normal. From week two, we started going for supper after class, and each week, we stayed later and later. Midnight. 1am. 2am. 3am. And then on week six, I was at his house beyond 7am. At this point, a couple of friends who were in the know were squealing with excitement because they thought, finally! However, I’d have to disappoint everybody. We did not do jackshit but talk through the night.

I’m actually quite amazed as well. Time just flew by and we chatted for hours. About anything and everything. I don’t think I’ve done this with anybody else. This is also why I always call him my soul mate, but it’s probably one-sided. My friends think otherwise. They think he also doesn’t want me to leave because he keeps offering me more tea even though at one point he was yawning non-stop and I said I should go.

Last week, he even suggested that we head straight to his home to eat and have a movie night in. It didn’t materialise because his cat was unwell and he didn’t want him to feel stressed by the presence of strangers (which I technically not am because his cat and I have seen each other for seven years). But I was secretly glad because I had a full week of joint calls with my manager. A part of me worried how I’d be able to work properly if I didn’t sleep again.

And we’ve been texting every single day (except today because we had another disagreement again) too. This is more than our usual because sometimes we have lapses of days in between.

Tomorrow’s our last class, and I’m not sure what will transpire after that. I’m quite sure our meet ups will be greatly reduced and back to square one, but one can hope.

xoxoxoxo.

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