In which the characters are introduced, the facts are stated, and the shit and the fan are living happily away from each other.
2 years and 1 month ago, I fell in love for the second time.
My life had been overshadowed for quite a few years by the feeling that I might not find love ever again, so finding Nemesis felt as if the Gods had aligned a few galaxies just for me.
At that time, I was working abroad. I had left my life comfortably parked in my home country, Spain.
3 months later, the relationship started shaping itself.
We became something more than friends very slowly, and, sadly, quietly. But that’s another story.
Although the feelings were strong, I decided to repress myself from confessing my real feelings towards her; after all, I was going to go back to my life in a few months, and she, unlike me, wasn’t good at detaching.
The plan was simple: we would try to make each other as happy as possible during the time we were together.
A year and 5 months ago, the time to return had come.
We parted ways at the entrance of my hotel; I had to take a plane home, and she had to stay in Manila. It wasn’t easy to leave each other, but that was the plan and we took it as the adults we were.
2 months after my departure, we had a long phone conversation.
There had been no closure, and My Nemesis needed to have “the talk”.
After that, we kept in touch through the internet, some links, pokes, and gifts were sent, and we exchanged calls that featured different degrees of inebriation. Everything seemed to be fine, with a pinch of melancholy.
7 months ago, we ceased all communication.
After not talking to her for a while (work tends to get in the way of many, many things), a short conversation through YM was enough to make my Nemesis’ grief return. That grief was skillfully described on her blog, in a language that I cannot understand, but that some of my friends can translate.
And so, understanding that she was still having trouble moving on 10 months after our separation, I chose to give her some space.
I didn’t like it that we weren’t talking, but this wasn’t about me.
A month ago, I texted her from London.
The New Year had arrived, and I wrote a carefully crafted text that was distant enough to not make her feel bad about it if she had not moved on yet, but nice enough to not seem like one of those generic New Year’s texts that we sometimes use to blast everybody with.
I pressed ‘Send’ and waited.
2 weeks ago, (after re-sending the text to her current number) she replied through email.
I knew she had been seeing someone else, so she must have had moved on, right? I told her I was going back to The Philippines for a few weeks, and that it would be great if we could meet and catch up.
After a good 60 or so emails, we finally agreed to see each other.
3 days ago, we finally met.
We arranged dinner for her, a common friend (The Clinically Insane), and me. I was happy to see her and she was... uncomfortable. And distant. But well enough to talk to me and joke around as she used to do.
A couple of beers and a few memories later, the awkwardness was finally fading.
My hopes for a regained friendship were high. Maybe Nemesis had finally moved on enough and we could start talking to each other again.
After dinner, we met with her current boyfriend (the Viking) and we decided to have a few drinks. The Viking and The Clinically Insane were driving, so they chose to have a couple of softer drinks instead.
Nemesis and I, however, were free to get smashed, so I ordered a bottle of tequila reposado to share. If that doesn’t loosen us up, nothing would -I thought.
And so the smashing begun.
Aside from a couple of brutally honest remarks that the Viking was man enough to take without punching me in the face, I think we were ok, given the circumstances of this awkward, awkward gathering.
At least -I thought- we’ve managed to get the worst out of the way. And so the night faded and we returned to our respective homes.
2 days ago, I woke up.
I was not hangover (I’m lucky like that) and I was feeling pretty ok about the previous night, and looking forward to repeating it in a few hours with an extended group.
And on that very morning, I got a text from Nemesis: we need to talk.
My life had been overshadowed for quite a few years by the feeling that I might not find love ever again, so finding Nemesis felt as if the Gods had aligned a few galaxies just for me.
At that time, I was working abroad. I had left my life comfortably parked in my home country, Spain.
3 months later, the relationship started shaping itself.
We became something more than friends very slowly, and, sadly, quietly. But that’s another story.
Although the feelings were strong, I decided to repress myself from confessing my real feelings towards her; after all, I was going to go back to my life in a few months, and she, unlike me, wasn’t good at detaching.
The plan was simple: we would try to make each other as happy as possible during the time we were together.
A year and 5 months ago, the time to return had come.
We parted ways at the entrance of my hotel; I had to take a plane home, and she had to stay in Manila. It wasn’t easy to leave each other, but that was the plan and we took it as the adults we were.
2 months after my departure, we had a long phone conversation.
There had been no closure, and My Nemesis needed to have “the talk”.
After that, we kept in touch through the internet, some links, pokes, and gifts were sent, and we exchanged calls that featured different degrees of inebriation. Everything seemed to be fine, with a pinch of melancholy.
7 months ago, we ceased all communication.
After not talking to her for a while (work tends to get in the way of many, many things), a short conversation through YM was enough to make my Nemesis’ grief return. That grief was skillfully described on her blog, in a language that I cannot understand, but that some of my friends can translate.
And so, understanding that she was still having trouble moving on 10 months after our separation, I chose to give her some space.
I didn’t like it that we weren’t talking, but this wasn’t about me.
A month ago, I texted her from London.
The New Year had arrived, and I wrote a carefully crafted text that was distant enough to not make her feel bad about it if she had not moved on yet, but nice enough to not seem like one of those generic New Year’s texts that we sometimes use to blast everybody with.
I pressed ‘Send’ and waited.
2 weeks ago, (after re-sending the text to her current number) she replied through email.
I knew she had been seeing someone else, so she must have had moved on, right? I told her I was going back to The Philippines for a few weeks, and that it would be great if we could meet and catch up.
After a good 60 or so emails, we finally agreed to see each other.
3 days ago, we finally met.
We arranged dinner for her, a common friend (The Clinically Insane), and me. I was happy to see her and she was... uncomfortable. And distant. But well enough to talk to me and joke around as she used to do.
A couple of beers and a few memories later, the awkwardness was finally fading.
My hopes for a regained friendship were high. Maybe Nemesis had finally moved on enough and we could start talking to each other again.
After dinner, we met with her current boyfriend (the Viking) and we decided to have a few drinks. The Viking and The Clinically Insane were driving, so they chose to have a couple of softer drinks instead.
Nemesis and I, however, were free to get smashed, so I ordered a bottle of tequila reposado to share. If that doesn’t loosen us up, nothing would -I thought.
And so the smashing begun.
Aside from a couple of brutally honest remarks that the Viking was man enough to take without punching me in the face, I think we were ok, given the circumstances of this awkward, awkward gathering.
At least -I thought- we’ve managed to get the worst out of the way. And so the night faded and we returned to our respective homes.
2 days ago, I woke up.
I was not hangover (I’m lucky like that) and I was feeling pretty ok about the previous night, and looking forward to repeating it in a few hours with an extended group.
And on that very morning, I got a text from Nemesis: we need to talk.
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