It has been EIGHT days since I spoke to Reindeer. He hasn’t acknowledged my birthday wishes from two days ago, either. I mean, really, what nerve! He’s a consultant not a doctor saving children from malnutrition in Calcutta.
Not only is dating someone who doesn’t call back a nightmare, it’s hurting my feelings. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve contended with rejection. It’s just that I really thought Reindeer was the one. And if he freaked out at my suggestion of “integrate our lives” (Post 100) , it’s fine. I can’t undo the past. If he’s gay, that’s fine too. But if Reindeer wants to break up, he has to say it to my face or the very least, to my ears.
And I know, I know. Men would rather scale Mount Everest without gloves and endure frost-bite than tell a woman they are no longer interested. But sorry, ignoring Desi Girl is unacceptable. Reindeer will have to use his big boy words because I want closure. And I am gonna get it.
I reach for my phone and send Reindeer a text message. Then I wander around the apartment for a few minutes but the walls are closing in on me. I flop onto my bed and reach for Frances, my faithful teddy bear of a companion since 1984. What I don’t understand is how Reindeer just stopped talking to me. It’s like he can turn his feelings on and off like a faucet. And I regret falling for him when all he did was waste my time and emotion.
I curl my body into a ball. It takes a few seconds before the sobs rock my body. This heartache hurts so much. Is it like weight loss. It’s harder to control as I get older. I don't even care that my eyes will swell to three times their normal size. I just want to cry.