10_Love Sick

Our conversation was brief, so brief that I didn’t even realise that that was all it took for a relationship to end.

I laid in bed on Sunday morning, looking up at the pale watery skies through the skylight and wondering why no tears came. Surely I should be crying, my almost two year relationship with Dex had come to a close and really, nothing? Not a single tear when we decided to call it quits for the last time?

You call it quits every couple months. This isn’t the first time you two idiots do this.

The clouds drifted by like a recorded time-lapse, it must be windy outside. I had told everyone that I was as ‘sick as a dog’ and feigned a few coughs here and there for good measure. I wondered if heartbreak counts as sickness, but surely if I was heartbroken I would be crying, right?

You probably only collectively dated for 10 months over the last 2 years. You hadn’t spoken in months.

I pulled the covers over my head, hoping that the darkness would chase my thoughts away with the enticement of sleep. But it was 11:00am and the little fiend in my head was not so easily silenced.

Your relationship ended long before your little conversation.

What are you even holding onto?

My hands grappled around in the fortress of pillows and soft toys until I found the palm-sized Donald Duck plush that Dex and I bought together; he had Daisy while I held onto Donald.

That was a year ago.

I met Dex on a dating app around 2 years ago. The irony of the situation was that I didn’t even install the dating app for dating purposes but purely out of spite. I reinstalled it on my phone having uninstalled it after announcing to Dex that I was committed, I wonder if it still retained our first conversation.

I thought back to the original reason as to why I even used the app in the first place and of an old friend that I no longer have any contact with. These memories gave way to a familiar gnawing ache that often surfaced when I remember all the friends that I have lost. I scrolled down my contacts list and found that I didn’t even have his number anymore. What did we even used to communicate through? His name is scattered throughout older messages with others but there does not seem to be any message threads between us. How strange given how closed we used to be.

Towards the end of my friendship with Augustus, or Gus as his friends called him– he was constantly on dating apps. Augustus had always enjoyed attention and the discovery of dating apps only seemed to enhance it. He was a man obsessed, constantly checking how many matches and messages he got from women and showing them to anyone who would listen.

“All I can say is–” he said one lunch time as he ran his hand through his hair and gave an over the top smouldering look, “I’m just an incredibly handsome and interesting guy.”

My face scrunched involuntarily in distaste, “I can say you’re an objectively good looking man Gus, but interesting? I think that is subjective…”

Gus was a colleague at my last work place, although attractive– his pompous attitude could be a little overbearing for those who weren’t so forgiving. His self-confidence often left him looking a little tactless, inconsiderate, and thoughtless. He cared very little about other people’s interests and more often than not– simply wanted to tell you what he thought without ever particularly caring about your point of view.

“Oh yeah?” He said with a mouth full of ham sandwich, Gus only ate very very plain sandwiches because he was either intolerant to everything or he disliked most foods; he changed his answers depending on his mood. “Well– you hang out with me so I am most definitely interesting.”

As lunch continued, what started out as a ‘is Gus interesting as a person’ became a competition of ‘who is more interesting, Gus or Miyu?’ Gus had a talent in making everything a competition and would often decide he was the winner. Any competition he didn’t win, clearly did not matter or would be disregarded.

“I bet you wouldn’t get as many matches as I do–” the self-satisfaction in Gus’ voice annoyed me often. It’s moments like these that made me question just why I even spoke to him.

“Oh? Is that a challenge?”

“Not if it’s the truth,” said Gus “You’re not like… bad, I just know I’m hot.”

“Okay… but what if you’re wrong?” I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief and displeasure. I chuckled as I recalled that memory. I realised that I often found myself in the company of people like Gus because I admired the confidence; how does anyone make such bold claims so casually?

“But you know me–” Gus said with the sort of smile women go wild for, “I’m never wrong.”

He tossed his sandwich wrapper towards the bin and missed, shrugging before opening the door to leave the lunch room. He held the door open as he watched me walk over, put his rubbish into the bin before leaving with him. He shook his head.

“Miyu, you’re far too good y’know?” He said fondly and I swatted him away. Gus and I had a complicated relationship, one that never truly got resolved throughout our acquaintance. Although I could still remember the last time we met and spoke, I did not realise that that would be the last time we would ever meet. But that was the cruelty of connections isn’t it? You just never quite know which meeting nor conversation will be your last.

I wondered if Gus ever thought about me, because it had been a long time since we last spoke. He had deleted and blocked me on every platform we shared and I had not thought about him for many years now. He has popped up every now and then in my thoughts, but I try not to dwell on him too much; what use is crying over someone who won’t come back?

Having been unpleasantly sidetracked by the memories of Gus, I cursed quietly when I could not log back into the dating app and instead scrolled back through all my messages with Dex. I started recounting all the breakups I’ve had in my life, the official and non-official ones; wondering what I’d felt at the time and if I cried or not.

I did not cry over losing Gus, though I knew Gus did.

I looked at the last messages between Dex and I, desperately trying to will tears to come though none did. Why? I had wept bitterly months and months ago, desperately messaging him through the flurry of tears in hopes for reconciliation.

Miyu: so

Dex: so

Miyu: what is there to explain?

Dex: what do you want to explain?

How did we manage to get here? After everything we’ve been through was this really the end? It shouldn’t be, it can’t be, right?

What happened to the Dex and Miyu that everyone knew? That I knew? That Dex knew? The Dex and Miyu that survived the Will episode? Did Dex even still believe in ‘us’? Did I even still believe in ‘us’?

Why was I thinking about this now?

I squeezed the little Donald plush again, trying to remember why we bought the pair.

It was a year ago, just after our initial fall out with Will, Dex and I had decided we would try again. The friendship group had fallen apart and it was just Dex and I trying to find a way to reestablish a relationship that had been fractured by drunken confessions and ultimatums.

In the end, Will decided he didn’t want any part of the drama anymore and Dex and I were left to our own devices. I had sometimes wondered if things would have been different if Will and I ran away together but what was the point in thinking about that? Will didn’t want me and I was starting to wonder if Dex wanted me either. Clearly not given the situation we were in now.

We were walking around Westfield shopping centre, trying to shop despite neither of us being ‘shopping people’. We trawled through clothing stores, neither of us really looking to buy anything. Dex would pick out garments and outfits that he was interested in seeing me in and I would emerge from the fitting rooms with photos of me in the outfits looking uncomfortable and awkward. Dex would complain that I wasn’t even trying to model them properly and I would snap that he picked things that didn’t fit my body shape nor my personal style.

“But it’s what I want to see you in,” Dex scoffed as we left another store empty handed.

“But I looked terrible! None of it even fits who I am!” I cried, “I don’t do girly! It just looks wrong on me!”

“I wish you’d just cooperate more, you could look really nice but you choose not to–” grumbled Dex, “I don’t understand why you can’t just be more confident!”

“Aah yes, because people just become more confident overnight don’t they? Maybe tomorrow I’ll also become prettier and also be perfect for you.”

I had soured the mood by accidentally spitting out my self-loathing and doubt. Dex said nothing, and we walked a bit more in silence. I hated it when Dex was silent because I could never gauge what he was thinking. His face was a blank slate of distance, no longer interested in engaging in the conversation.

As we walked past the Disney store, I quietly mumbled, “can we go in?” and Dex led us in without any hints of acknowledgement nor hesitation. I read it as indifference.

We did not say anything to each other as we looked through the display, my fingers brushed over large comical looking figures and children’s princess costumes. I wanted to tell Dex that childhood me would have loved these, that I would have wanted a huge Dumbo plush and that I had a princess Aurora dress from Sleeping Beauty when I was younger.

I ran my hand down a Sleeping Beauty Princess costume on the rack, feeling the smoothness of the satin and stiffness of the sheer overlay on top. Children’s costumes have become far more intricate than when I last owned one, and I sighed at how beautiful it was… at how I wish I could still wear something like this and feel like a princess. But instead, I was a bitter adult, bitter at how poor my choices are in life and how uncomfortable I felt about my own body.

Dex appeared next to me, “You’re a bit old for these, no?” He said with his eyebrows raised, “I thought you didn’t do girly.”

“Every girl wants to feel like a princess sometimes–” I muttered bitterly.

Dex sighed, I could not tell if it was affectionate or not, probably not given my little outburst earlier, “maybe if you let yourself dress like one, you would feel like one. Princess.”

I let out an exasperated but fond chuckle, shaking my head a little because I was pleased that Dex had called me Princess. I was very very easy to win over.

Dex pulled me over to the display of small soft toys under a big sign that said ‘Buy 1 and get the 2nd half price.’

“These are kinda cute, should we get a pair?” asked Dex softly.

I couldn’t help but smile, glad that we were seemingly back to normal although I had my reservations. I should still be careful, both of our moods were mercurial at the best of times. “Sure, which ones?” I asked as I assessed the pile, overwhelmed by the choice of characters.

Dex holds up a pair of two little martians from Toy Story, “How about these? I like it when they say ‘THE CLAWWWWWWW.’”

I laughed at his reenactment, “Shouldn’t we get one that comes as a pair–”

“Like a couple? Like, Mickey and Minnie?” Dex searches through the pile to find Mickey and Minnie.

“No… I never really liked Mickey and Minnie… I actually liked…” I searched through the pile, “I loved Donald… ‘cause he was always so mad all the time.” I found a little Donald, complete with his little hat. “I loved Donald because he was always so ready to fight the world, no matter what.”

It was Dex’s turn to laugh, “Of course you love the duck that gets mad at the world.” He dug around a bit to find his counterpart, Daisy. “Okay, Donald and Daisy– the duck that gets mad at everything and… what does Daisy do?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know– I just know that Donald gets mad at the world and Daisy stays with him.”

Dex took both Daisy and Donald and ushered us to the check out, “then they fit us.”

Donald was awarded to me while Dex had custody of Daisy.

“So we have them to keep us company when we are apart,” Dex said as I held Donald to my chest that night. When I left his place after our weekend together, I went home with Donald.

I clutched Donald to my chest, filling my small cove under the covers with the soft scent of chemical apples. We discovered much later that they were scented plushies. I stared long and hard at the messages again.

Miyu: depends on what you want to know

Dex: lmao

I waited for a further response for Dex that night, waited for him to say something, to press me, maybe even throw an insult at me. But that wasn’t how Dex worked.

Miyu: dex

Dex: what

Miyu: can we just talk?

we haven’t spoken in months

Dex: sure

but does it really matter anymore?

Miyu: why wouldn’t it matter?

Dex: because you have hamu now, no?

There was another long break before I responded; I wanted to tell him that Hamu / Sonny didn’t really matter if I had him but the reality was, I wasn’t even sure if I had Dex anymore since we hadn’t spoken in the last couple months.

Miyu: so is this it?

Dex: do you want this to be it?

I went to bed after that message, unable to really articulate what I wanted. Our relationship had ended months and months before this but neither of us were particularly willing to let go. It was an endurance battle where there was no prize. We were seemingly caging each other in misery for no reason at all.

Why was I so hesitant to just break up with Dex?

What was I holding onto?

What was Dex holding onto?

I woke up this morning, replied and have been in bed ever since with my new found illness.

Miyu: if it’s over

just tell me

There was no reply after that.

I wondered if I needed to tell Sonny.