Friday, July 07, 2006

Still, It Is Good To be "Loved"

The new senior account lead, which I barely met but have worked together over conference calls and meetings, a German guy, shouted on the other end of the phone: "I love her work! I love her! I love what she did on this account! " Of course, I was there in the office with my boss, so he may just say it to please me. I am modest when it comes to compliment.

I am modest when it came to the time when you said you love me. I should have believed it.

My boss later kept on repeating this to different people: He said: I love her, I love her, I love her." It reached a point where I had to mildly protest and say: no, he is just saying it.

I know who really loved me, it was not him.

It is never a good sign when your female boss repeat other people's compliment to you, especially other man's, too many times--although my boss and I were close and she was teasing me.

The other day she said again: Your boyfriend wants you very much, after a staffing call.

I smiled a sad smile: Theoratically that has to be true. My boyfriend has to want me. Point is....

Point is you don't want this anymore?

Although I don't "love" this guy back on what ever way or level, it is better to be "loved" and "needed" than hated, especially I was arguing and pushing back on him constantly, with my bluntness of a foreigner, against his bluntness of a foreigner. I was being tough and was surprised that he "loved" this tough Chinese bitch.

You know I have gotten so much better, stronger and tougher at work, and in life, because I do not fear anymore after what we went through.

When does a temptation for a love-making and intimacy stops being a sexual thing and starts becoming love. How do we know? When do we know it is not anything more than?

When we talk about hand-shake-like love making at first, when we desire it so much yet is afraid of it, we are already in love, but we are afraid to face it, we push it down, squeeze it to a thin slice.

Sometime it is easier to say I don't love than to say I do. It is just easier.

And, the only reason that I am still here, facing this torture, being measured up by the work I pretty much hate, being "loved" by people I don't care and barely know, working with your best friend, is to wait for someone and something.

My lease was expiring. The thought of packing my bags and leave this city and country is in my mind many times. Just leave, at least for sometime. Remember I used to tell you, I will leave here if we don't work out. That is a sentiment of I don't want anyone else here besides you. I have a weird way to express my feelings.

Not that I don't love this city, what it has to offer, sometime, you leave only because you love too much and too strong and you can not bear it anymore.

I love this city and this country with its vast space and freedom and safety, something only an immigrant can feel and love.

I love you like how a FOB love this land, you know, is that good or bad? I can not anchor my heart on your coast without burdening you. But I know that is only half the reason.

I am happy and peaceful, because I know what I want and believe in it. I can miss you so terribly yet meanwhile enjoy a book, a show, a funny joke from a friend, a fine dinner, life and enjoy it with the thought that I wish you are there with me, like when I enjoyed Paris alone.

As much as I hate travelling, as much the account is so messed up, I will continue to work on that account, at least partially, only because I don't really want to work, not to say solely, on the acount that your freind is working on. I was pulled in. It is a torture to me. It is busy beyond belief, at least until yesterday, with whining clients.

It made New York Red New York green, the color of my skin now. But I have passed the birth pain. I am picking up breath this weekend. I hold together and strong.

But where can I get hold of you and your heart, again?

Still, it is good to be loved, and to love.


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