Sunday, September 12, 2010

So, I swallowed my pride, and called JC after not receiving any replies to my texts sent a week ago. Even then, this was done only after I tried to figure out what to say if he picked up and it'd turned out he'd received my texts and was deliberately not responding.

He didn't answer. I hung up on getting his voicemail, feeling simultaneously disappointed and relieved. Disappointed because he didn't answer, but relieved because I'd tried, rather than just assume he was ignoring me. After all, I'd given it my best shot and this was better than having any regrets, yes?

Then, I got a text. I grabbed my phone. It turned out to be someone else, and I laughed at myself for being so silly and letting myself get my hopes up.

A little later, I got another text. It was the boy himself. He'd lost his phone and, consequently, my number along with it... For the second time in a row.

I'm happy again, as my self-esteem gets a boost. But then, the niggles begin. Do I really want to engage with someone who's that disorganised?

I'm starting to feel like Bridget Jones, except everyone I meet is some variant of Daniel Cleaver instead of Mark Darcy.

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