I have a complicated relationship with my orbiters. Their distinguishing feature is that they are men with whom I have been emotionally entangled, who watch my stories but who do not otherwise have any contact with me by their choice. They could DM or text me — I don’t block men I don’t care for — but they do not. I do not consider them friends. Maybe fans, or a little less, because placing them in the same category as my darling fans would be insulting to the latter. Either way, they are a special class of men because I pay much attention to them.
I maintain a level of detachment from them for the sake of my well-being but, nonetheless, am drawn to them like a moth to fire. I am endlessly fascinated by their behaviour as an object of study; I stay transfixed because they are like a puzzle whose pieces are constantly transmogrifying.
As we have clearly established, I love to read too much into human behaviour — it’s an occupational hazard. And I think orbiting behaviour is particularly revealing of desire due to its nature.
Orbiting in the form of story-watching behaviour is a two-way street, at least with insane girls like me. Again, men (and women) are deliberate in their actions. My friends say “maybe he’s just watching your stories because you pop up on his feed (because you post insane shit all the time)”, but are people really that simple? An orbiter does not accidentally watch your stories. They are orbiters because there are fixed patterns to their behaviour; they are there again and again like permanent fixtures. And given how confrontational I am, I know they know that I know they’re watching my stories. It’s like standing with your back to another person in a room of mirrors. You look up at yourself, and then at them, realising that they’re watching you too, even though both of you do not ever move.
This creates a relationship that is simultaneously parasocial and symbiotic. As much as I enjoy their presence, I think they, too, get a high from following my social media — because I feed them in return.
So let me feed you with this post.
Here’s the tall tale I spin in my head because I’m a crazy girl and I can think whatever I want (and I own it 100%!). You’re still here because you realise you messed up your only chance with me. Maybe it’s because you were in a bad place or not emotionally ready; you had not yet found yourself. That’s okay; it doesn’t matter anymore. Either way, you regret that you didn’t seize the chance when you had it.
And you don’t know what to do now, so you linger.
I am not sure what to say in response. You wanted something from me, and you took it, didn’t you? I gave you what you wanted, because I loved you, because I wanted you to be happy, even if the time we had together was so infinitesimal. But no matter what I did, I wasn’t enough for you then, and you made your decision then, split-second or not, calculated or not.
Isn’t this what you wanted?
I could block you but I won’t. Why? Because that would be giving you the easy way out. I’ll be frank: I don’t think you deserve that from me. And I love watching you suffer. Every single time you turn around for a second, third, fourth, fifth look, every single time you come back to me unprompted. The more you hurt me in the past, the more I’ll enjoy it.
Well, or so I thought. Huh? Like I said, I used to love playing games with silly cute boys. But in retrospect, I notice that there would inevitably come a tipping point where my objective ceased to be communicating my feelings for them in the hopes that they would reciprocate. All I wanted was to crush them.
I don’t know who or what to or why I was trying to prove myself, but here’s the thing — I always won, and crush them I did. One of the boys I was intent on breaking (because I felt that he had wronged me) eventually conceded through an apology. But when I saw his text, contrary to my glorious expectations, I didn’t feel a sense of victory. It was more like… ah, we’ve been through so much, haven’t we?
But… what was all of this for?
There was a brief period when I actively attempted to ignore my darling orbiters because I felt they were a waste of my time and emotional bandwidth. (Damn energy vampires.) However, I have since realised (perhaps in a post-hoc justification kind of way) that they were pivotal to my emotional growth.
Take Mr Temasek, for example (if you’re here, hi!!! Did it work out with your ex? Hahahahahaha). One encounter with him stands out; I think it will be all I remember of him in time.
We were seated, facing each other; he asked me what my biggest insecurity was (at that point).
And I was honest with him because I trusted him then: I told him, point blank, that I feared men only saw me for my (hot N sexy) body, even though I was so willing to love them.
For at least a second, I thought I recognized empathy in his pretty eyes — a moment of vulnerability I believed was worth revealing myself for.
And then he proceeded to precisely exploit that insecurity against me, haha.
Well (shrugs). We live and we learn. I was out of commission for a good two months or so thanks to his selfishness (and my weaknesses then; it takes two hands to clap). But he taught me an important emotional lesson, which later helped me find the one. Everything happens for a reason.
This is all much ado about nothing. Like OK sis, what is your point?
So here it is in the spirit of full disclosure. I like to pretend that I’m some harbinger of feminine rage, but surprise — despite everything, insanely, I want you to be happy. In the end, we’re all interconnected. Even if our paths will never cross again (I sure hope they don’t), they did at one point. I did love you.
I can be as delulu as I want, but in the end, I will never know why you’re still here. And I don’t intend to find out; that’s what keeps you endlessly fascinating. We always want the things we cannot have.
I liked to credit the men like the two examples above for being my muses. But I’ve been giving credit to the wrong people. I am like this today, and I could write all of this now, because I opted to learn from my mistakes instead of letting them break my spirit. I grew despite you, but also because of you. I would not be where I am today without you — for better or for worse.
And somehow, I choose better — without you.
You’ve served your purpose in my life. I hope I’ve served mine. So let’s part ways now, for your sake.
Listen to this — it’s the sound of how much I would’ve loved you.
And then let go.
But hey, if you do choose to stay, then watch, watch, watch me.
Because I’m going to dance.
baby g’s diary 