I didn't need the laser beam eyes

(Sorry to disappoint you, Sheepish)

I met up with S last night. It was kind of awkward, but not so terrible. I was very unimpressed when he said the thing he wanted to talk to me about was the same question about why I didn't want to go out with or be friends with him years ago. I'm also kind of unimpressed with myself that I didn't say anything about how I thought it was going to be something much more urgent and important than that.

I was, however, very happy to hear that the reason he was asking was that he's met someone new to date and wanted to know if there was something he did wrong that he should avoid doing this time. He met this new person at church (I was reminded of this Onion article, since he was an atheist when I met him) and apparently she's even more shy than him. They've been hanging out for a while, it sounded like, and she was the one who started asking him to do things, so I assume she does actually like him and so the same problems won't apply.

I relaxed a bit after that, since it was clear he wasn't just trying to make me feel guilty and his life hasn't turned out so terribly, after all. I still didn't have much to say, though. I was still a bit worried that he would want to be friends, at least, since it wasn't quite so awkward as last time we ran into each other. He did say he'd be happy to be friends, but I was sufficiently non-committal that I think he got the message. I accidentally mentioned facebook and then worried that he would friend me. He only poked me, though, which I ignored.

I told him about the group therapy thing I've been doing and he was surprised that I still have any social anxiety, since I have friends and do things with them and stuff. It selfishly made me feel a little better, that someone would think I was as un-shy as I think the other people in the therapy group are.

At one point, he said something about how I could thank him for being at Prestigious U. When I wrote the LtEHB series, I wasn't at all sure that I wouldn't have given up the chance to be here if it would mean that I could make it all unhappen. I'm still not convinced that studying at Prestigious U alone would have been worth it, but certainly enough good has come of being here that I'm glad things happened as they did. I'm glad it seems to be working out okay for S, too.

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: part eight

previously on LtEHB

I think this is the last episode.

After I got home, I was fairly passive aggressive about avoiding S. I'd talked to him on IRC throughout my honours year when I was supposed to be doing research and writing my thesis, but now I became "too busy" to log on. I avoided the shyness group channel entirely for several months because I didn't want to admit to them that I was going to grad school in the US, for fear they'd guess the reason why. The main reason I haven't told either of the IRC friends I'm still occasionally in touch with about this blog is that I don't want them to read this story. I don't think I'm worried about S's privacy, even though they'd know instantly who I'm talking about. I think I'm just ashamed of the whole story, which also makes me feel evil.
After I arrived in the US, I still avoided contacting S for several weeks, until I finally logged onto IRC and he was there. I guess I'd kind of been hoping he'd forget about me and I could forget about him.
I agreed to see him and it was, unsurprisingly, awkward. I could see he was still hopeful that I'd eventually want to be more than friends again. He still wanted to sit too close to me and hug me too often. I tried to be friendly, but I felt crushingly guilty at having to keep making it clear that I could only be friends. I also felt bad because I didn't really want to be friends and was seeing him out of guilt and pity. I didn't have anything to say to him and he didn't have much to say either. We'd have dinner together and I'd be acutely aware that we looked like one of those couples who have nothing to say to each other, that people notice and wonder why they bother. I started making excuses to see him less often, and then I'd suggest going to movies or doing activities where it wouldn't matter that we didn't have much to talk about.
Eventually, he started to complain that we never got to talk and I had to admit that I just didn't have anything to say, and didn't feel comfortable talking to him the way I used to. I hadn't noticed him trying to talk to me about anything, but then I'm not always the most observant.
I think I must have ended up telling him I didn't think I could be friends at all, but I don't remember. In any case, I didn't see him for a few months, then just before I moved out of the dorm, he called me to complain that I'd been ignoring his emails. My old undergrad email account had finally been shut off, and I'd forgotten that he only had that address for me. If he'd waited to call, I wouldn't have been at the same phone number either, which would've made things easier for me, but worse for him, perhaps. I was going away, as well, so I said maybe we could get together after I got back, but then I really did ignore his email for a while.
I finally agreed to see him one last time and it was fine, but I still didn't feel any desire to be friends with him. He said he'd finally accepted that I wasn't going to change my mind about being more than friends, and he kept saying he would rather see me every few months or so, than never, even after I explained I didn't feel anything except guilt and regret when I saw him (I've just been rereading old emails and I sound so cruel), but I couldn't do it. I didn't see him again until earlier this year, which brings us back to the start of this series.

I can see now that I should have just been clearer in the beginning and not tried to be friends all that time. Or maybe that wouldn't have been any better... Trying to go along with as much of what S wanted as I could was an attempt to soften the blow, but that obviously didn't work.
He did say he was glad he got to be happy, if only temporarily, but the rest of his emails make me feel so guilty. What he wanted (just to hang out occasionally) sounds so reasonable, which is why I found it so hard to say no. I guess I'm still just as confused as ever.

When I saw him last time, he did say he'd been making more of an effort to be sociable and had joined some groups and things, so at least his life is slightly better than it was before I met him. I think I can take credit for some small part of that change, but it's not enough to make me stop feeling guilty.

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: part seven

previously on LtEHB

You probably weren't expecting another update so soon, but I feel like finishing the story, especially since I think the part six might have been the hardest to write. I think I keep getting more evil, though.

I flew to the US the day after S left for another C'landian city. I had recruitment activities at Prestigious U for 3 days, then I was going to stay and explore the city for another few days. S was looking forward to spending more time with me, and I was already dreading the point when I would have to tell him the truth about how I felt.
The recruitment weekend was fun. Sharing a hotel room with a stranger wasn't a horribly awkward experience. I liked the other students and actually felt like I did okay socialising with them. I did feel uncomfortable when people asked where else I'd applied, or why I wanted to come to the US, but that was fairly minor.
I'd planned to call S on the Saturday night, after all the activities were over, to make arrangements to meet up with him the following day. I hadn't thought ahead to realise that I'd be sharing a room and wouldn't want to call S in front of someone else, so I didn't call. I could've made an excuse to go out and find a pay phone or something, but I really didn't want to talk to S, so I just gave in to my avoidant urges. I don't think I slept at all that night. Partly because I felt guilty about not calling S when I said I would, but mostly because I didn't know what I was going to do about telling him things weren't going to work out between us. My roommate had to leave for her flight at 4am, and I gave up attempting to sleep after she left and just read. I thought about calling S then, but assumed, or at least convinced myself, he'd be asleep (I had a feeling he would've preferred to be woken up, even if he was, but again I was avoidant). I did get a couple of hours sleep after finishing my book at around 7am, and then finally called S even though I was wishing I could just keep ignoring him. He was understandably upset that I hadn't called, but he forgave me easily, which made me feel worse.
He showed me around the city and took me to see some of the places he'd told me about. I didn't write about this in the previous part, but it was very sad to do some of the things we'd been talking about doing together and have it not be at all like I'd imagined or hoped. It was even sadder because I think S was just as happy to be with me (or almost) as he'd expected. I was still avoiding telling him how I felt because I thought it would be better to let him be happy as long as possible, but I don't know if I made it harder in the end.
Finally, I decided that the second last night I was there was the latest I could put off telling him the truth. We'd been watching a video at his apartment, so at least we were in a private place. I don't remember what I said exactly (I've tried to avoid thinking about it), something about how I just didn't feel the way I'd thought I felt before we met, and I'd been hoping I would feel that way after spending time with him, but I didn't. He was devastated. He tried to convince me that I should give him more of a chance and maybe with more time I'd want to be with him again. I had to keep saying I didn't think that would work, feeling more and more evil and heartless with every repetition. I felt like I was kicking a puppy. Or rather slowly torturing it to death... If I'd known how to put him out of his misery with one swift blow I would've done that, but instead it took months to kill the last of his hope.
His apartment was kind of far from where I was staying, and I'd planned to get public transport back there, but when it came time for the last service to leave, S didn't want to let me go. He still thought he could change my mind, so he said he'd drive me back once we finished talking. When it finally became clear that I wasn't going to relent, he was too upset to drive, so I slept on the couch in his living room. I didn't sleep much, though. I spent most of the night listening to S sobbing in his room and crying and hating myself for hurting him so badly. At one point, I heard S come back into the living room. I thought maybe he was hoping I'd regret what I'd said after hearing how upset he was, but I couldn't face him again and just kept my face hidden under the covers.
In the morning, we barely spoke. I kept apologising, knowing it wouldn't make anything better. I hugged him goodbye and left, thinking we mightn't see each other again and hating myself for not really minding. I looked back at one point and saw him watching out the window as I walked away.
When I got back to the place I was staying, I slept for a couple of hours, then went out sightseeing again. I saw some cool things and had an enjoyable day, all the while feeling evil for not being as miserable as S presumably was.
The next day, I was flying out fairly early in the morning. When I got to the security screening area, S was there waiting for me. I think he was hoping for some romantic movie scene where I'd realise my mistake and go running back to him. Instead, I was just disappointed that it wasn't going to be ended as easily as it had seemed. My ability to remain steadfast in the face of someone else's wishes, already sorely tested, did crumble slightly, though, and I agreed to try to be friends and see what happened when I came back to start grad school.

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: part six

previously on LtEHB

First, a more recent update (from when I started writing this in August...): in the last email I wrote about from S, he made a big deal about how this was the last time he was going to write and he was moving on with his life and so on. I wrote back to say basically "I don't hate you. I hope things work out for you." So now he's sent another email saying he wasn't expecting me to write back and now he's confused and do I want to be friends after all? He claims to not understand how I can not hate him and also not want to see him again. Gah! I'm kind of annoyed at his cluelessness, but then I feel guilty, because it could well be genuine (although, thinking that also makes me feel guilty for having such a low opinion of his social skills).

Even more recent update: I have just ignored that email, because after reading what I'd written again, I couldn't see how I could make it any clearer without being mean, so I decided he was just being intentionally obtuse. Not that that makes me feel any less guilty about not replying... Should I reply?


So, last episode was leading up to finally meeting S. My mum drove me to the airport to meet his flight, because she was freaking out about him being a potential murderer (I am still cringing at the thought of other people knowing anything about this). She did agree to wait out of sight, at least. I really wish I'd moved out of home earlier so I wouldn't have had to tell anyone.
I hate waiting to meet people, because I always worry that I won't see them, or won't recognise them, and I tend to convince myself that anyone who looks vaguely like them is actually the person I'm waiting for (even if I know them well). So, I was pretty anxious just from my usual recognition weirdness, as well as still kind of hoping that I'd be wrong and seeing him in person would make a difference.
It didn't. All I felt on meeting him was disappointment and overwhelming guilt. He seemed happy to see me, but I don't think either of us knew what to say. We hugged, though, which was nice. S gave good hugs, at least.
I guess, in a way, it was better that I already knew it wasn't going to work out the way S and I had wanted, because it wasn't long before the first incident that should have made me have doubts, if I hadn't already, and I'm not sure how much I would've put up with if I had really been as invested in the relationship as S was.
He'd brought some things along to give me, but he must have left one of them behind on the plane. When he realised it was missing he got very upset and started sulking and acting as if everything were now ruined. I convinced him to at least ask if anyone had handed it in, although I had to do most of the talking. It was weird being the comparatively unshy person.
I became even more uncomfortable with that role when I had to introduce him to anyone in my family. It was bad enough having to deal with Mum thinking I was insane to be wanting to meet someone I knew from online, but I was even more embarrassed that he gave no indication of being an interesting person and was uncommunicative to the point of being rude. I felt evil for being embarrassed and judging him like that, though, because I knew exactly how scary and hard it was for him to meet everyone. To be even more judgemental, though, it's not like he gave much indication of being an interesting person when we were alone together and he was supposedly more comfortable, either...
When we were at the airport, he wanted to kiss me. I didn't know what to say, because I didn't want to break his heart within minutes of getting off the plane. I didn't want to do it at all, actually, and I was still trying to convince myself that if we talked and spent time together, maybe it would be the way we'd wanted it to be, so I think I made excuses about being in a public place.
Mum dropped us off at the hotel S was staying at and I went up with him to put his stuff away before we went to explore. We were out on the balcony, both looking at the view and I turned around to face him, I think I might have been in the middle of saying something, and the next thing I knew he was kissing me and... well, ick. I hated it. He clearly didn't.
I don't remember how I avoided letting him kiss me the rest of that day, without him noticing my reluctance. I guess maybe I did let him a couple of times. Neither of us had kissed anyone before (I was almost 23, he was 28), and I was still clinging to the last shreds of my delusions, trying to avoid facing reality, so I kind of tried to give us the benefit of the doubt, in case I just hated it because we didn't know what we were doing. Now I'm fairly sure that if I actually liked him, not knowing what I was doing might well have made me feel scared and awkward, but I probably wouldn't have hated it.
The next day, I couldn't keep pretending. After I admitted that I didn't actually like him kissing me, S tried to argue that maybe I was just doing it wrong and needed more practice, and then, when I remained uncertain, he walked off. I felt incredibly evil and heartless and chased after him with placatory excuses about how maybe I was just too scared and needed to get used to being around him in person or something. I didn't really believe what I was saying, but I felt particularly evil for destroying his happiness so soon, instead of at least letting him enjoy the trip and I thought maybe there was some slight chance I'd change how I felt. I would've been happy if I turned out to be right, anyway. Eventually, S calmed down and accepted my excuses (was I evil for continuing to give him false hope then?).
I was happy enough to hug S and walk around holding hands with him, because hugs are always good, and who knew holding hands was so nice? Of course, it would've been nicer if I'd actually liked the person whose hand I was holding, but it was a good enough compromise for both of us. I did feel comfortable with S, at least. Partly that was because I knew how much he liked me, and while I didn't think his feelings were justified, at least I didn't have to worry about him judging me. Also (more evilly), I felt safe from being judged (by him, if not by those who saw us together) because I was far more socially functional than him.
One of my friends had a birthday dinner while S was there. I think he would've preferred it if I'd skipped it to spend time with him alone, and I'd have preferred to go alone, but he ended up coming with me. I was kind of proud of myself for not being entirely secretive and keeping him away from the rest of my life, but then I felt evil for being embarrassed by him just sitting there silently. You'd think my own social phobia would make me more understanding, but apparently it made me less so, since I just felt like if I could overcome my anxiety in order to function, he should, too. I think I was actually more talkative than I might otherwise have been, in an attempt to compensate, but my limited social skills weren't enough to actually involve S in the conversation properly. I was surprised, and grateful, that my friends didn't ask more questions about who S was and why he was there.
Another day, we went to an animal park. S was especially looking forward to a tour they did, where you could follow a keeper around the park and pat some of the animals. He bought a hat with his favourite animal on it in the morning and we wandered around the park until it was time for the tour to start. When we got back to the starting point, though, the keeper had already set off, on an undetermined route. S threw what can only be described as a tantrum. He complained bitterly about how they shouldn't be allowed to leave before the official starting time and now he wasn't going to get to pat the animals and the whole trip to the park was ruined. He even threw his hat on the ground and stomped off. I was pretty sure that we could catch up with the keeper, even if we weren't sure which way they had gone, so I suggested taking some of the likely paths to look for them. S wasn't having any of it and continued to sulk and pout. Seriously, he was acting like a spoiled 3-year-old. I was pretty unimpressed with his behaviour, to say the least, but even more disgusted at my own. Why the heck did I try to placate and reassure him, instead of just telling him to grow up and leaving him behind to look for the tour myself? I guess I was afraid he was going to blame me somehow, which is fairly pathetic of me. Eventually, I asked someone if they'd seen which way the keeper went and convinced S to at least come with me to try to find the tour, instead of sulking. We found it pretty easily and got to pat the animals and S immediately cheered up. I remained disgusted with both of us, but I didn't say anything to him about it, which only made me more ashamed of myself.
Then, on the way to the airport for S's departure flight, we ended up running late and getting lost looking for a petrol station and S was angry and driving too fast because he thought he was going to miss his flight. I was scared by the way he was driving, but I didn't say anything again. I don't react well to anger. My instinct is to just try to be as quiet and invisible as possible in order to avoid provoking any further anger, or directing it towards myself (probably a result of my family always tiptoeing around my dad when he was in a bad mood, rather than confronting him). S didn't miss his flight, and immediately cheered up again, but I was disgusted at my inability to stand up for myself.
My mum was also pretty unimpressed with the way S kept wanting me to do things with (and for) him, when I got sick and still needed to pack and prepare to go to the recruitment weekend for Prestigious U the next day.
I really hope that even if I had started out actually liking S, I would still have realised these were significant problems. Since I was already going to have to tell him I wasn't interested, I ended up not saying anything about the problems, because I didn't want to hurt his feelings more than I had to. I really wish I had said something to him, but instead I'm complaining about him behind his back here... It might actually have been helpful for him in the long run, if I could've explained that reacting to disappointments like a spoiled brat was not going to impress anyone (I hope he's learned that lesson since), but I took the easy way out.

I think you'll have to stay tuned for that in the next episode: LtEHB goes to Prestigious U

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: part five

previously on LtEHB

I'm having trouble trying to recall my thoughts and feelings from this time, because it's hard to believe how deluded I was. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with me?
After I got my grad school applications in and S was convinced I was serious about moving to the US, he decided to come visit me in Commonwealthland. A couple of weeks before he arrived, I got the acceptance to Prestigious U, inviting me to the recruitment activities, which actually overlapped slightly with the time S would be in C'land. He was going to be in my city for 10 days, and then go somewhere else for a few days (I convinced him that if he was going to go all the way to C'land, he should see more than just my city). He tried to get me to go with him to the other place, but I was already freaking out about the idea of having to tell anyone that he was coming to visit and my mum would've had a heart attack if I'd gone off on a trip with some guy I'd met online (not that it was much better just telling her he was visiting). In any case, it turned out that I would be in the US while he was elsewhere, so he changed his flights to go home slightly earlier. In total, we had about 2 weeks of being in the same place.
I guess I haven't mentioned how this whole story fit into the rest of my life. Basically, it didn't; the two were completely separate. I didn't ever tell any of my friends that I was even using IRC, because they would've thought I was weird. When I was spending all my time online, staying up until 3am every night, my mum was really worried about me (understandably) and I did tell her eventually what I was doing and who some of the people I was talking to were, but I didn't tell her anything specific about S. She was constantly getting annoyed because I would always hide the windows I was chatting in (my windows-m reflexes are still pretty quick), as soon as she, or anyone else, came near the computer.
I didn't even tell my closest friend (closest in relative terms; don't picture the closeness of your closest friend) that I was applying to grad school in the US until the last minute. And I told as few people as possible about S visiting. In fact, it worked out quite well that the recruitment stuff was at the same time, because most people who noticed I wasn't around for a while assumed it was all due to that. (I realise I have issues with secrecy)
I couldn't figure out what or how to tell my mum about S and I think it got to within about a month of his visit before she found out. I didn't end up having to figure out what to tell her, though, because in possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life (although there's some close competition at numerous times later in this episode and the next), she found something I'd written to S and accidentally left lying around. Again, what the hell was wrong with me?
She was obviously freaked out and seemed to be convinced that S was coming all that way to murder me. She ended up making me let her come with me to meet S at the airport, although she didn't come right to the arrival gate with me.
This is so hard to write, by the way. But it's making me feel slightly better, in that at least I'm not the same person I was then. If any of this doesn't make sense, it's because I can't bring myself to dwell on it long enough to proofread.
So, in episode 4, I mentioned that I freaked out again. As it got closer to the point where we'd actually meet for the first time, I was getting more and more anxious. Finally, a week or two before he arrived, the scales fell from my eyes and I realised I'd been deluding myself all that time and meeting him wasn't going to make me suddenly feel everything I'd been trying to convince myself I felt. That realisation made me completely freak out, because I'd just spent all this time and effort applying to grad schools in a country I had no reason to move to, other than S, and I was either going to be stuck somewhere I didn't want to be, or I'd have to tell everyone (including the professors who'd written letters for me) that I changed my mind. I can't remember whether I managed to calm down because I'd already gotten into Prestigious U and I decided that was a good enough reason to move to the US, or if I merely deferred my panic in the hopes that I would get in and I wouldn't be left with a choice between Middle of Nowhere State U and having to tell everyone I knew that I was an idiot and didn't really want the thing I'd spent ages convincing them was a really good idea. In any case, at this point my major panic was about having almost committed to moving to the US, before realising the whole thing with S was a mistake. Obviously, I had no idea what to tell S, but I figured that was a short term worry, compared to what I was going to do with the next 5-6 years of my life.
I didn't say anything to S about my epiphany, because, while I wasn't expecting it, I thought it was still possible that meeting him in person would make a difference and I didn't want to disappoint him or ruin his trip any earlier than I had to. If I'd realised early enough that he could conceivably have cancelled the trip, I guess I would have told him, but obviously I'd been avoiding really thinking about it until the last minute. In hindsight, I doubt he would have believed me, anyway.
I should probably say, this realisation didn't quite come out of the blue. Over the previous couple of months, I'd been noticing (and getting bored with) how much of our conversation was made up of variations on a few in jokes that were fun at first, but not enough to sustain months of frequent chatting (at least on my end). There were still long, awkward (again on my end, at least) silences when we talked on the phone, too. I'd dismissed my concerns by comparing my anxiety levels to those during interactions with other people, but I'm pretty sure my lack of anxiety was due to the fact that I didn't have to care about impressing S.
That last week or two between realising I wasn't interested and meeting were pretty painful. S was so excited and happy and I kept trying to balance pretending to be excited, too, and attempting to dampen his enthusiasm by warning that maybe it wasn't going to be the magical fairy tale he wanted.

I was hoping to get to us meeting this time, but I have to finish laundry and pack for going to what seems to be the blogging world's favourite state this weekend. I'm driving, too, so I need some sleep. I forgot to blog about last weekend's first adventure in driving on the wrong side of the road, but it wasn't as much of an adventure as I'd been fearing, really. My main confusion was just between the windscreen wipers and indicators. Luckily it was an automatic car, so my reaching for the gear stick and hitting the door was only a problem when I was stationary.
See you Monday. Maybe I'll finish the meeting story then.

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: part four

previously on LtEHB:
prologue
drinking game
part one
part two
part three
trading cards


At one point yesterday, I said something to wolfangel about how clueless I was when applying to grad school. As soon as I said it, I realised my mistake, because I didn't want to explain why. I probably should've told the truth, but I don't deal well at all with worlds colliding and there's a big difference between typing something and saying it out loud, so I just mumbled bits of my usual RL explanation... Sorry about that, wolfa, but at least this way the answer comes with the next installment of LtEHB.
So, after the events of part three, S was keen to figure out how we could actually meet, and preferably live in the same place. I was still living in my fantasy land where all my doubts and concerns would vanish as soon as we met, so I was probably just as interested. I'd wanted to go overseas to do a PhD, since I first heard of the Rhodes scholarships. I think the motivation was definitely that someone would pay for you to live somewhere cool, rather than any idea of what a PhD actually was - other than something people who were good at school did. I think it was also a benchmark for being smart - if I were really intelligent, I could win something like that.
Anyway, by the time I got to finishing undergrad, I'd realised I wasn't anywhere near that smart, but I still wanted to do a PhD in the UK (I'd also briefly considered France, since I'd taken the French-as-a-foreign-language exams, but I realised that passing those didn't actually mean I could cope with learning anything in French). It didn't seem like too much of a change to go to the US instead, although it never had the same appeal as living in Europe (I'm still contemplating the idea of doing a post-doc in some French-speaking country (although, my French has all but disappeared in the last 4 years) or the UK).
I had no clue how to pick a grad school in the US, unfortunately. I'm not sure it would've been any easier if I'd gone to the UK, either, except that my advisor might have had some contacts. I almost applied to the UK, as well, and maybe I should have, but I was too indecisive (and intimidated by the fact that my super-dedicated and intelligent classmate wasn't having much luck with her applications) and let the deadline pass. I've since looked up programs in the UK, because I like to wallow in regrets like that. I couldn't actually find any programs that seemed to have what I'm interested in, and nothing as cool as my current project, but I probably could've found a lab I liked.
The main difference between the UK and US that I use as a reason for choosing the US, is that it seems to be the norm in the UK to approach the head of a lab you're interested in working in directly, rather than applying to a program. I was worried about picking a lab without knowing anything about it, other than the research topic, so I claim that's what made me want to come here, where you get to do a few rotations in different labs to try them out. Really, though, I never would've thought to come to the US if it weren't for S. Mainly because I could've been almost done with my PhD by now if I'd gone to the UK!
Having no other basis for choosing grad schools in the US, I picked fairly randomly based on location. I thought about applying to some places on the west coast, but it seemed like that would defeat the purpose of the going to the US at all. I also had no idea what my chances were of getting in anywhere. Luckily, there are a lot of universities within a few-state radius, so I ended up applying for a couple of Prestigious Universities, a couple of plausibly decent schools and a few embarrassingly low-tier schools. I feel horribly snobbish by calling them low-tier, but as soon as I got to the recruitment weekend here, I realised none of the other students would've even considered the plausibly decent schools as options, so I learned to avoid listing off the places I'd applied. Instead, I shift the conversation to talking about how clueless I was in general.
There were so many hoops to jump through just to apply, and I almost missed most of them. I was late registering to take the GRE, but the person administering them at my uni said I could just show up and they'd have some extra papers. In the end, the papers never arrived and while ETS would make allowances for the people who'd actually registered, I had to travel a long way to take the computer version (and therefore missed getting to do the quantitative section since they switched it to the stupid new written one right after I should've taken it). I took a subject test, and did fairly mediocrely. I paid way too much for express postage and took full advantage of the time difference to get things delivered on time.
In the end, I got into one Prestigious U and the 2 laughable ones. I think they were the only programs that didn't require interviews, too, which all contributed to my conviction that the Prestigious U acceptance was a mistake. Too bad for them if it was, though, 'cause they're stuck with me now.
During all this time, I was still trying to convince myself that everything would work out with S and I wasn't making a horrible mistake. I felt happy when I thought about how sweet and kind S was and how I could talk to him about almost anything (online at least) and I could imagine meeting him and feeling the missing attraction and everything being perfect. But I also remember feeling sad that I was missing out on the kind of super-happy, thinking-the-other-person-is-gorgeous-and-perfect love that is portrayed in movies and books. As much as I was deluding myself, I don't think I was fooling myself that I was really in love.
I knew I had more power over S, in that he definitely cared more than me, but then, if he didn't, nothing would ever have happened, because if there'd been any question about whether he liked me, I would've easily convinced myself he didn't and not even tried to talk to him. As it was, I kept testing how much he'd put up with (although I wouldn't have admitted that was what I was doing at the time). I was far more social in real life then than I had been previously, or am now. I guess it helped my confidence a lot to have someone like me that much. I'd go out with friends and come home and decide I was too tired to log on and chat. Or I'd leave our conversation to talk to someone on the phone. I was horribly needy when I was feeling miserable, too, making him spend ages reassuring me. He took my disorganisation with application things as a sign that I wasn't that committed to the idea, which was probably at least partly the case.
After I couldn't take the GRE in my city, he'd finally had enough. He said it was obvious I didn't really care about him so he didn't want to talk to me anymore. After he abrubtly left the chat room and logged off, I panicked. I really did feel like I was losing someone and something very important to me and I was desperate for him to change his mind. I sent a grovelling email saying how sorry I was that I was jeopardising our chance to be together and that I wouldn't let anything get in the way etc and he did change his mind. I kind of wish I hadn't apologised, though, or he hadn't accepted it, because then it would've been over sooner and more easily. Instead, I took my panic to mean that I was doing the right thing and really did want to be with him.
The next time I felt that panicked was for very different reasons, but that will have to wait for part five.

LtEHB: trading cards

Avoidance is so much more fun than writing... Credit goes to Phantom for the trading card idea (I was sure there was some other discussion about it at some point, but I couldnt find it again).

Here's normal Lucy:



And the special, limited edition* LtEHB (it's kind of hard to get a cutesy, dress-up doll to look suitably evil, but I added the laser-beam eyes just for you, sheepish):




*I think only S and my older brother have one. Oh, and a couple of people from primary school, and my other brother, and... okay, so it's a limited edition in the Franklin Mint sense.

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: part three

previously on LtEHB:
prologue
drinking game
part one
part two


I really need to hurry up with this story so I can figure out how to reply to S’s email…
So, I did my best to be as non-committal as I could, without completely ruling out the possibility that I would consider dating him at some future point, if we ever met, but right from the beginning S’s demeanour and behaviour made me doubt that he’d actually heard all the disclaimers I’d included. I reminded him of my hesitations as often as I could, but he still seemed confident that they’d all disappear as soon as we met. I wanted to believe him and I felt bad constantly trying to deflate his optimism, so over time I convinced myself that he’d heard all my expressions of doubt enough that I didn’t need to repeat them so often.
I’m playing up all the doubts I had at the time because in hindsight, that’s what stands out to me, but obviously there were things that made me more inclined to ignore those doubts and believe in S’s vision of how things were/would be. S was incredibly sweet and supportive and understanding of my non-existent self-esteem and constant anxiety about social interactions. And I really felt comfortable talking with him. Probably a big part of that was that it was pretty obvious he liked me enough to put up with my whining, though, and that made me feel guilty about using him again, even though I tried to be understanding and supportive about his problems, too. Actually, the fact that I was consciously trying made me feel guilty, too.
At this stage, I was in my honours year (a year of full-time lab research, post-bachelor’s degree), but I was still IRCing with S as much of the day as possible (my current work habits are not exactly a new thing). Eventually, we started using voice chat occasionally and I’d sneak out of lab so he could call me sometimes. The phone conversations didn’t exactly allay my fears that I wouldn’t be interested in real life. I found it much harder to talk out loud, compared to on IRC and large portions of the time we were on the phone were spent in silence. And a fair bit of the remaining time was spent commenting on the birds he could hear in the background, since I’d generally be sitting outside to talk. I don’t actually remember what we talked about when we were talking. It definitely wasn’t anything as personal as when we talked online.
After talking more and more, understandably, he felt like things were moving forward and he started to talk more seriously about the idea of us having a future together. What I really wanted was for everything to pause until we could meet in person and see if anything was even real. In my mind, everything he thought was developing was still hypothetical and dependent on what happened when we met. I tried to keep reminding him of that, but I hated upsetting him by being too negative all the time, so I probably went along with him more than I should have. It was hard for him to believe that I didn’t have any better idea of whether I’d still feel the same way in real life than I’d had in the beginning.
Occasionally, he would say he loved me and, while it was very nice to hear, I’d feel incredibly uncomfortable because I couldn’t say it back and I didn’t know how to react. By the time we’d been talking for something like 9 months, he was saying it more frequently and also asking me what I felt more.
It’s hard to identify a feeling you’ve never had before. I’d never felt that attraction for anyone that makes the difference between wanting to be friends or more and I’d certainly never been in love, but then, I hadn’t even had a close friendship where I felt safe enough to be honest about my thoughts or feelings. It was difficult to be sure that the affection and friendship and care I felt didn’t add up to love. I tried to explain how I did feel to S, but to him, my descriptions matched his own feelings. I knew there was still something missing from how I could imagine feeling if I were sure, as well as from what I saw of his feelings, but I couldn’t articulate what the missing piece was. Since I couldn’t adequately explain why how I felt wasn’t love, he stuck to his theory that I was just unable to believe that everything really was perfect and wonderful and my anxiety was just blocking my true feelings. I tried to convince myself that the fact that I could imagine feeling more than I did, meant that I would feel that way once we met.
In the end, my guilt and unhappiness at continuing to hurt him led me to allow myself to be convinced that once we met I’d realise that everything really was the way I wanted it to be and I’d be sure. So, once again with a huge array of disclaimers, and only after I’d extracted from him an admission that he’d rather hear what he wanted now and have it turn out not to be true than either never hear it or wait until we met and I was sure, I said I loved him too. (Stupid, stupid, Lucy!)

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: part two

previously on LtEHB:
prologue
drinking game
part one

I think one of the big reasons I felt more comfortable talking with S about how shy and lonely I felt was, I'm rather ashamed to say, that I thought he was even more shy and lonely than me. He lived alone, didn't have any friends and spent most of his time outside of work on IRC. I guess I felt more at ease, because I wasn't so worried about him looking at my life and thinking how pathetic I was. It was actually flattering that he thought I was very social for being talkative online and having people to do things with in real life, too. It was also very obvious that he liked talking to me, so I wasn’t worried about annoying or boring him, as I was with the people I’d always really liked.
So, I was being kinda-sorta clumsily flirty and I'd "hug" him when he was feeling down and vice versa and stuff like that. It wasn’t real life, though, so it was supposed to be safe. I’ve always daydreamed about imaginary perfect lives where I'm completely normal and can talk to people and date and fall in love and live happily ever after etc, so I occasionally thought about what it would be like if we lived in the same place and could talk in real life the same way we had been online and maybe then we could be more than friends. But I also daydreamed similarly about the other friend I still sometimes talk to (let's call him M, in case he comes up again).
This was back in the day when not everyone had a digital camera, so it was a while before we got to exchange photos, but when we did, I have to admit I was disappointed and that’s one of the things that makes me feel most evil. At that time, I already felt freakish for never having had a crush on anyone. So, I guess I was kind of hoping that since I felt more comfortable with S, he would be an exception to the rule.
In the time since we’d started talking, F had gotten progressively more out of control and abusive in general. I’d managed to stay on his good side for a while, but then I followed along with a group attempt to annoy him, even though I knew it would be hurtful to him. I still regret doing that, even though I think he brought the animosity of others on himself by being pretty nasty and vindictive. After that, he started turning his vindictiveness on me.
At one point, he sent a message to the group about shy women who use shy men online. Using was defined as chatting privately without explicitly saying you weren’t interested in dating. Apparently, women have all the power in the relationship and should assume the man is interested in dating them, unless told otherwise. The thread degenerated into the usual discussion about how women (shy women in particular) are evil, shallow, selfish bitches who only ever lack a boyfriend because they constantly reject men for not being good-looking or rich enough. Meanwhile, the poor shy guys are selfless, devoted friends who are always deprived of the girlfriend that is their due for being so nice.
At first, I thought he was talking about S and me, but some of the specific details he added didn’t match, so I decided he was talking about someone else (actually, he was just embellishing or mistaken and he was talking about us). I still felt guilty, though, because I was doing pretty much exactly what F described and I was worried that meant I was using S. At this time, I was busy with work and family things, so I wasn’t on IRC and S and I were just emailing. I mentioned this discussion to S and said I didn’t think it was referring to us, but it could be and I hoped I wasn’t “using” him, but if I was I was sorry.
I got a reply the next morning that threw me, right before I had to leave on a family day trip, so I couldn’t reply or talk to S. S said he thought he was falling in love with me and he wasn’t sure how I felt, but he’d noticed I was kind of flirting with him, so maybe I was interested too.
Here’s where I should’ve said “I’m sorry I’ve given you the wrong impression. I think you’re a very nice person, but we live on opposite sides of the world, and all we’ve done is chat online and email; nothing is going to happen in real life. I’m just confused and lonely and I shouldn’t have been trying to make myself feel better by flirting with you online”. Unfortunately, I felt like I didn’t have a convincing enough argument to explain not being interested, despite the evidence to the contrary (let’s ignore for now the fact that I thought I needed a logically convincing argument). After all, I was spending a lot of time talking privately with him, I was flirting, I’d thought about the possibility of dating him if he lived nearby. How could I be sure I wasn’t interested?
Well, there was one big piece of evidence that suggested I wasn’t interested (my underwhelming reaction to seeing his photo), but I discounted that on the grounds that it would be shallow and evil (I’d been well-indoctrinated by the many discussions in the support group similar to that described above) to reject someone on the basis of a photo.
The other factor was that it was very flattering to have someone say he was falling in love with me. Plus, I’d never been able to talk to anyone so easily, so what if this was my only chance at ever having any kind of relationship? Was I really sure enough that I wasn’t interested, that I’d be willing to give up that chance? Apparently not.
(I think now’s a good time to scull your drinks)
I wrote back and said that I wasn’t sure at all and I couldn’t tell just from talking online, but it was theoretically possible that I might be interested if we actually met in person. Despite all my hedging, he took it pretty enthusiastically.

LtEHB: the drinking game

Every time you notice something I should have taken as a warning sign to avoid/leave the situation I was getting myself into, take a drink! But maybe you shouldn’t drink anything too strong. I wouldn’t want anyone getting alcohol poisoning…

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: part one

previously on LtEHB:
prologue
drinking game

I mentioned a little bit of the background on the online support group I used to be involved with here. I met S in the chatroom that people from the group used. I’ve written before about how obsessed I became with IRC. I actually didn’t ever talk to S much in that semester of serious IRC addiction, though. In fact, he didn’t talk much at all. When the second semester of 2001 started, I decided I would only go on IRC on the weekends, when I could sleep in after staying up too late. When I told people in the chatrooms I frequented that I wouldn’t be around so much S was obviously disappointed. I thought that was a little odd, given that I hadn’t specifically interacted with him much, but I was also kind of flattered that anybody would care.
For the first half of the semester, I stuck to my plan and cut down on my time online. It also helped that a number of my favourite people had stopped chatting. When the 9/11 attacks happened, though, I immediately logged on to check that the Americans I knew were okay and stayed online for as much of that day and the following few as possible. After that, it was easy to get sucked back into being on IRC a lot more. To avoid the sleep deprivation, I stuck to IRCing during the day when I had gaps between lectures.
There were two chatrooms I talked in: the main one (#main) and a smaller invitation-only one (#sub) started by F (for Fruitloop), the psychotic former friend referred to in the IRC post above. There were always people in #main, but everyone but me in #sub was American, so at some point they would all go to bed. Except for S.
S and I would be the only two left in #sub and I would feel kind of awkward. I’m pretty uncomfortable in one-on-one situations at any time, because I don’t like all the conversational pressure focussed on me. I would actually be wanting to leave #sub, but it seemed far too rude. Especially since half the time, S would have left #main, due to the arrival of someone he hated. In a chatroom, I could usually cope with not wanting to talk by just pretending I was busy in other windows, so I would try not to feel too guilty for being silent in #sub when S was only there. It felt incredibly awkward, though, to be chatting in #main when S could see that I was still paying attention to IRC, and just ignoring him in #sub. I tried to convince myself that if he wanted to talk, he could start a conversation, but I still felt guilty.
Finally, one day I decided to try to have a conversation with him. I kept asking lots of questions and eventually he opened up a bit and talked about his shyness and I found I could tell him about how I felt. He showed me a website he’d made that was actually pretty entertaining and I ended up enjoying the conversation. The next day when we were left alone again, I felt uncomfortable, because now there was the additional pressure of having talked once to make it more awkward to go back to the silence, so we talked again and again I enjoyed it. I still felt like I was making more of an effort to keep the conversation going, I think, but I was still enjoying it. I think partially, I was just enjoying the fact that I was able to keep a conversation going, though. I feel very manipulative now, thinking about this…
After a couple of days of chatting just after everyone else had left (we were too self-conscious to talk in front of everyone, maybe? Or maybe he didn’t want to join in the communal conversation more than he was used to? For some reason, we didn’t talk in front of everyone) we started private messaging while other people were still around. Actually, I’m not sure I remember the chronology here. At some point, I had exams, so I wasn’t going on IRC at all for a week or two. S was disappointed again, so I said he could email me if he wanted, and he did. I’m not sure if that was why we started private messaging, or if we were doing that before we started emailing.
From that point, we spent all our time online talking in our own private chatroom. I don’t really remember what we talked about. Often, it would be just pointing to cool websites or things we’d seen online. Teasing each other about differences between Commonwealthland and the US probably took up over 50% of our conversation, too. I’ll admit that there were plenty of times while we were talking that I was fairly bored with these repetitive parts of our conversation, but it was still a novel experience to feel comfortable talking and having someone interested specifically in talking to me, even if the actual conversation wasn’t anything very fascinating.
I was known for using an awful lot of smiley faces on IRC in those days. Practically everything I said would be softened with a “don’t yell/laugh at me for saying something you don’t like/agree with” smiley. S on the other hand, refused to use any smiley faces at all. He also claimed not to smile much IRL, so I would tease him about that and try to get him to smile.
Now I’m getting really uncomfortable writing about this, so you’ll probably notice more disclaimers and attempts to justify my behaviour…
So, with all the teasing about smiling and stuff, I was acting kind of flirty. Probably it was mainly because I could and that was really a novel experience. Actually, at the same time I was also sometimes chatting similarly with the friend I’ve been talking to on msn more recently, so if he had been as interested in me and as persistent as S, maybe I’d be in Canada right now.

Okay, I have to go into lab to feed my cells and I’m getting kind of stuck here, so I think this is the end of part 1. I’ll continue when I get home again.

next episode:
part two

lucy, the evil, heartless bitch: prologue

There have been many occasions since I started this blog, when I thought maybe I would tell this story. Each time I’ve got a little closer, but ultimately, I’ve just kept ignoring it. Ignoring it hasn’t really been very helpful so far, though, so I think it’s finally time to go through the whole story. Part of why I’ve been reluctant to share it, is that I feel so guilty about how I acted and I don’t want to reveal myself to be a horrible person and have you all hate me. But at the same time, the other reason I couldn’t tell, is that I secretly want you all to read it and tell me I’m not so bad and I feel guilty wanting to be absolved of my guilt. Writing about some of my other deep, dark secrets has felt amazingly freeing, so I guess that’s what I want here, even though I think I don’t deserve it.
I think the first time I thought of telling this story was way back when PPB asked people for their best worst experience. I’m still not sure if it fits the best part of that, though. More recently, I read Curly, of ham & cheese on wry's series of posts about her first girlfriend and found myself almost recognising myself in her story of an online friendship becoming something more and ending in heartbreak (interestingly, the first post also reminds me of one of my theories). I say almost because you may remember me claiming never to have had so much as a crush, so how would I be identifying with this story of first love? I still think this doesn't count, but you mightn't agree. In any case, if I'm wrong, I'm deceiving myself as much as you. The major difference between Curly’s story and this one, though, is that I’m not the sympathetic hero of my story, but the villain.
There are multiple stories that I’ve referred to obliquely here. This is the story of the guy I tried and failed to like-like (actually, I can't find what I thought I'd said; maybe I self-censored more than I remembered), who is also the guy I ran into here, who emailed me yesterday. It’s also the story of why I’m even here in the US. I wrote once about wanting to dissociate current-me from the idiotic past-me who did incomprehensibly foolish things. This story is about that past-me.
One of the students in my program lived in Europe for a while after undergrad and when I asked her what made her decide to go overseas she said blithely, "I followed a boy". I was astounded at her honesty and at the same time terrified for her. In my head, I was yelling at her for laying herself open like that. Had she no sense of self-preservation? Of course, nobody reacted with scorn or ridicule, fear of which keeps me from telling anyone my real reason for applying to grad schools in the US. Her openness didn't inspire me to deviate from my official story, though, because it's based on so many layers of lies and secrecy that it (at least feels like it) would be disastrous to start demolishing the facade. I'm also still deeply ashamed of the whole story.
Before I start, you need to go and read Curly’s series of posts (it’s long; I’ll wait for you), so you know what the other side of my story is like (and also because her story is worth reading in itself). Then, I promise I'll start being less cryptic.

50 books

I could count how many movies I saw last year because I always keep my ticket stubs, but I have no idea how many books I read, so this year I'd like to keep track. I noticed quite a few people had a goal of reading 50 books during the year, so I'm starting with that (although given I'm already up to book 5, I hopefully won't have any trouble reaching that goal).

1. Educating Alice by Alice Starnbach. This was a Christmas present from a friend so I wanted to like it, but I found the author's tone too patronising and self-satisfied. It was about her adventures travelling to different countries and taking some kind of class so she had plenty of opportunity to describe things she did badly, but somehow she still came off as thinking she was fabulous. What I particularly disliked were the times she made a sweeping generalisation about a culture or nationality that was favourable to herself and then said she had no reason to believe it was true, but she liked the idea so she'd believe it.

2. A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. Another book I was expecting to like since everybody raves about it, even my housemate who only really loves George Eliot. I was even stopped by some random guy on my way home tonight who was so eager to discuss its fabulousness his greeting was "do you love it?". Unfortunately, I had to admit I was sadly disappointed. I'm actually still going on it because I'm not loving it at all, but I don't hate it enough to give up. I'm completely missing the humour, though. Is the joke just that Ignatius is so delusional in his offensiveness?

3. A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter. This was very sweet, but ultimately Elnora was a bit too much of a Mary-Sue for me to like her wholeheartedly. I much prefer Anne Shirley or Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm (I can't remember her actual last name).

4. Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld. Finally a book I loved! I've always been a sucker for boarding school stories and, as you may have noticed, I have a preference for heroines who are suitably insecure. I actually went to the library to try to find a print copy of A Girl of the Limberlost since the online version let me read 5 chapters before refusing to work, but I'd forgotten the children's section closes early so I needed another teenage girl story. I wasn't particularly expecting to like this book since I read a bad review of it at one point, but the main character's insecurities were almost alarmingly close to my own (when there's a thief in the dorms she wonders if maybe it's actually her even though she can't remember stealing anything, she needs a special, enthusiastic invitation before she'll begin to believe it might possibly be okay for her to join in a group activity etc). Of course, she gets over most of them eventually, unlike me, but I still liked it a lot. It was a good book to read on Thursday when I was already feeling miserable about all my ignoring of research finally starting to catch up with me, plus I'm always miserable the night before I have a therapy appointment (this time especially, since the previous appointment was fairly disastrous). I tend to apply the logic my parents used to use on Christmas Eve (ie that the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner morning will come) and stay up as late as possible. I also had multiple awkward interactions on the way home (another random guy at the library asked me where to find the books, I stared at him blankly and asked "which books?" before he explained it was a joke and then tried to make conversation while I tried to figure out why he was talking to me and how I could escape to find my book; I also had to drop the keys back to the cat owners and they had made me brownies (sadly, with ginger) and cookies, but I still barely managed to say 2 sentences to them) so all in all I was glad to have a book to read that made me realise that at least I have fictional company in freakdom. Although, after reading many books like this, the fact that my issues are so typically adolescent makes the recognition less comforting.
Incidentally, the therapy appointment was remarkably painless, since she just asked stuff about where my family was from and the differences between various Commonwealthlands and the US. She actually thought we were making progress since I could actually answer her questions, though. She seemed so heartened that I would have felt bad bursting her bubble so maybe it was lucky I couldn't explain why it wasn't really any improvement...