Evolution (Part 2)

There are a few ways to measure how far you've come, in getting over an ex-girlfriend.

You don't think of her, as often. The things around you don't really remind of you of her, anymore. The things she gave you don't really trigger any memories anymore, say - you wear it, because it's a nice shirt.

You have a new partner and you seem to show some semblance of moving on - even if the next relationship, is a bit of a nightmare, too. But it's okay, you console yourself. You're in a new chapter.

You're over her. So you tell yourself. And that remark could be half-true, at least, depending on how much progress you've made in reconciling the past and whether you've come to an emotional "closure" on that episode.

Where you don't wonder anymore, of what could have been. Where things don't hang on the timing and intervention of certain events or persons. Where you accept that it's just meant to be.

And the truth is, you may well be on your way.

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But the only real way to know whether you're really over someone - is to bump into them again.

And to see what emotions it triggers.

And in KL this is very likely to happen. Same circle of friends, same neighbourhood, same hanging out joints. There's at least, a 1 in 3 chance, of it happening.


And so it was at Bond's on the 13th. I was having a whale of a night up till then - dinner with Loving Girl's birthday entourage and later, the whole group adjourned to Bond's for the Barbarran tribute.

And I was making my way through the crowd, from the dance floor to where the birthday group was, I saw her in a black blouse. She still looked fantastic to my eyes. And a quiet awkwardness overcame me.

But I looked down to the floor and focused on wading through the crowd, back to the gang.

Just less than a year ago, we were constantly slow dancing to "More Than This" by Norah Jones and Charles Hunter, a song in one of my favourite albums - "Jazz in The City". I remember feeling so complete - the feeling of joy and contentment was overwhelming.

I didn't need for anything else. I had her and she was mine.

And hear we are, less than a year later - almost complete strangers, in public circles.


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She knew some people in the birthday group. She came over and chatted with one of them, whose one of her close friends. She said hello to some others, too.

She was one feet away from me and yet, she seemed like a stranger whom I've never met. This person whom was the best thing (and the worst thing) to have happened to me last year.

I continued dancing, trying to act unmoved and oblivious. I was not disturbed, just awkward. We pretended not to see each other, even though some people in the group, knew better. It wasn't just me, I guess - it was mutual.

Though she put up a stronger front that I did. She always could. She's done it all her life.

Later, as the night was ending and everyone was saying farewell to one another - there was a moment when our glances met. I acknowledged her and she acknowledged me, in return.

And I almost said something - before I stopped myself - because I realized what I was about to say. Those words are not appropriate anymore - we're virtually strangers now - leading very separate lives. But yes, those words are still there - out of force of habit, because I used to tell her all the time.

It's not an ideal situation. But it's a vast improvement from where I was last year. I'm not as affected as I used to be - nowadays, all it takes after bumping into her, is a few days of nostalgic recovery and the melancholy lifts by itself. I'm much stronger now.

And one day - perhaps after she's married, we'll be right back at the place where we started off - as normal friends. Albeit with a little shared romantic history in the past.

Feelings evolve, people evolve, the past gradually morphs into the present and prepares us for the future.

Such is life,...and love.