In a night that consisted of epic laughs (which included the phrase of “A gestalt…syphillis”)…I should have had lots of fun.
I’m glad you don’t read my blog. I wouldn’t want you to know that I was totally fine at improv night, until I turned around. And saw you. Sitting there. With another long-haired asian girl beside you. She wasn’t even pretty.
But I am still not over you. Remember the spring melt? The smell of it reminded me of when we first met at that photoshoot. Spring rolled along, and the smell of ozone reminded me of that beautiful day where I rollerbladed and you biked, you showing me sights of the city that I didn’t know existed.
I loved you. You pulled away, but I still wanted you. Even after we broke up. I must have consumed your energy, but you made me insecure. Before I met you, I was strong, independent, beautiful. Afterwards, you left me a sobbing mess, not knowing who I was, broken, and fettered by the chains of non-closure.
I know, to you, I was just a sexual fantasy. An asian girl who was pretty cute, and hot in lingerie, who could cook like no other, who gave a mean BJ. But really that’s all I was. Now, knowing that I could be replaced…by THAT…well…
I thought I was strong, independent and beautiful. I came from work, in a new dress complimented by everyone. I had a tall, cute, yet shy and geeky boy on my arm. I was just bragging about my soon to be job offers in Italy and Japan.
But after seeing you there, I was left feeling ashamed of who I was, and who I was with that night. I may have had a dress on, but I was overdressed for the night. He may be taller, but you’re a perfect height for me. He may be smarter, but his awkward hand placements and his insecure posture pale to your confidence and glowing persona. I wasn’t the one you were sitting beside.
No, instead, an awkward, ugly asian girl was beside you. I whispered to my roomate: “Ugly probably means glowing personality”. She replied: “I sure hope so.” Well, she better be, because something has to make her better than me.
So, I can easily be replaced by any other asian girl, shy and naive enough to place their trust in a cute boy with yellow-fever. I’m nothing but my race, a bra, and a notch on the bed post.
And so, I give up on you. I deleted your text-conversations. (Your contact information was never restored to my phone either). And I’m not responding to any of your future texts. There was no friendship, nothing but hollow “promises” on your end.
I shall now remember that I am better. Than her. Than you. And frankly, I deserve better. Than you. And sadly, than him.