I wake up the next morning. My eyes have puffed shut. I must have cried myself to sleep. I blink several times. My contacts have fused to my eyeballs so not only do my eyes hurt, they are blurry slits for seeing. I stumble across the apartment to the bathroom. I cannot even brush my teeth because I cannot see anything. I grope around the linen closet and find drops and release half a dozen drops into each eye, until I can blink sight back into my life.
I brush my teeth, brew coffee and grab my phone. I re-read the series of texts, I re-live the cutting slices against my feelings. It is okay. This is not the first boy who did not like me back. This is the first not boy or girl for that matter, that wasn’t a great friend. This is not the first relationship in my life that has not worked out.
It does strike me that I gave him a lot more chances, because he was Indian. It does strike me that I most probably have not tolerated this from a non-Indian guy. It does strike me that me I should have just said no a long time ago. It does strike me that I am colorblind everywhere else in my life, why not in my lovelife?
Okay. Fine. This was a mess. I need to move the hell on. One by one I delete his emails, text messages and finally his phone number. For a moment I consider writing down his phone number, in case he calls or texts again, so I can remember who not to respond to.
But you know what, God and Ganesh willing, he won’t contact me. God and Ganesh willing, I can just get over this and start anew. A new year is coming – one filled possibility. So I should grieve and cry, let it out, cut myself some slack and start over.