This was one of the most foolish things I did. But I don’t seem to regret it now. Believe me, it was beyond my normal courage to have done it - I called him!
It’s been a couple of weeks ago when that fateful night happened. That had been the day after my birthday, and about two months of hearing nothing from him. It is to be understood that I have ceased communication with him when I casually learned from a friend that he has a girlfriend. It caused a pain I kept to myself and on that impulse I deleted his cell phone number in my phonebook. The affected me didn’t want to text him anything that might give off my distress.
We had been constantly communicating through texts but he never told me about his girl. That was considerably strange if you know that he had kept me updated about his life in a way that would give the impression he is unattached, not to say the little teases he would hint for us, which I would always dismiss because it makes me uneasy, considering the obvious, that I like him. So bad. It was strange keeping that part of him from me knowing we have some friendship, not to say that he was intending to go out with me again, which turned out to be empty words of intentions.
I couldn’t text him. But he could still text me. And I would know if it was him by the first four digits of the unsaved number, and of course, by the familiar way he would start a conversation. But he never texted. And that was unusual. And I wondered why. And I stopped myself from wondering because it was useless. Or because it was damaging me. And so it was that on the night of that second month, I summoned all the strength I could to finally call him. Not to say anything, but to know what he has to say, if there would be any.
Being home alone that night must have caused that force of inspiration, apart from my desire to stop speculating. I picked up the phone and asked for him. For almost a minute that I had to wait for him to get the call, I almost put the phone down. Then he was on the line. Yes, why? I really had nothing to say. Nothing. That was more of the unusual call when it was the caller who waits for the message. I couldn’t demand for him to tell me something, right? Good thing he asked how am I and commented why I didn’t just text. I said I’m fine and that I lost his number. He said he already gave me his new number, anyway, he would text it to me later. And so began our usual updates in life. Latest movies, troubles at work, next plans, blah blah blah.
He texted after that call and asked when is my birthday. How weird he asked. I told him so because it was only yesterday. He greeted me and asked what was I doing. I was already connected to the internet then so my very late reply didn’t get a response.
He never mentioned about his love life still. Not even when we were texting again about his plans and confusion at work to which he was feeling helpless about. Anyway, a few times I hinted on that subject to him, but he just wouldn’t yield to it. Oh, well.
I haven’t told anyone about this. My friends would probably understand my act, but I couldn’t yet start telling them. I’m still ashamed of such foolishness. This confession is supposed to be an outlet while I try to overcome the feeling of shame.
It’s been a couple of weeks ago when that fateful night happened. That had been the day after my birthday, and about two months of hearing nothing from him. It is to be understood that I have ceased communication with him when I casually learned from a friend that he has a girlfriend. It caused a pain I kept to myself and on that impulse I deleted his cell phone number in my phonebook. The affected me didn’t want to text him anything that might give off my distress.
We had been constantly communicating through texts but he never told me about his girl. That was considerably strange if you know that he had kept me updated about his life in a way that would give the impression he is unattached, not to say the little teases he would hint for us, which I would always dismiss because it makes me uneasy, considering the obvious, that I like him. So bad. It was strange keeping that part of him from me knowing we have some friendship, not to say that he was intending to go out with me again, which turned out to be empty words of intentions.
I couldn’t text him. But he could still text me. And I would know if it was him by the first four digits of the unsaved number, and of course, by the familiar way he would start a conversation. But he never texted. And that was unusual. And I wondered why. And I stopped myself from wondering because it was useless. Or because it was damaging me. And so it was that on the night of that second month, I summoned all the strength I could to finally call him. Not to say anything, but to know what he has to say, if there would be any.
Being home alone that night must have caused that force of inspiration, apart from my desire to stop speculating. I picked up the phone and asked for him. For almost a minute that I had to wait for him to get the call, I almost put the phone down. Then he was on the line. Yes, why? I really had nothing to say. Nothing. That was more of the unusual call when it was the caller who waits for the message. I couldn’t demand for him to tell me something, right? Good thing he asked how am I and commented why I didn’t just text. I said I’m fine and that I lost his number. He said he already gave me his new number, anyway, he would text it to me later. And so began our usual updates in life. Latest movies, troubles at work, next plans, blah blah blah.
He texted after that call and asked when is my birthday. How weird he asked. I told him so because it was only yesterday. He greeted me and asked what was I doing. I was already connected to the internet then so my very late reply didn’t get a response.
He never mentioned about his love life still. Not even when we were texting again about his plans and confusion at work to which he was feeling helpless about. Anyway, a few times I hinted on that subject to him, but he just wouldn’t yield to it. Oh, well.
I haven’t told anyone about this. My friends would probably understand my act, but I couldn’t yet start telling them. I’m still ashamed of such foolishness. This confession is supposed to be an outlet while I try to overcome the feeling of shame.
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