New York cheese cake sad story

I cannot sleep.

Five years ago, a week before my ex-boyfriend finally exclaimed the hallucinated sparks between us, I celebrated his birthday. In my purse, I only had RM120.00 before I could go back home after completing a course in Kemaman. With that small amount of money to survive another week there, I bought him a whole Secret Recipe cake priced RM89.90. He loved New York cheese cake and that was what I always be reminded with. I had never bought any cake before, not even for myself, and it was much too expensive for me, as that time I just started working but I bought it still - with the advance pay my office gave to me. I only realised after the birthday celebration that I didn't have enough money to go back home. I felt dry and a wee bit sick a little at first but later I cursed myself when I had a fight with him. A week after that, he left me after five years of long distance relationship. He left me the moment we discovered means of seeing each other better than the university years.

I wasted my money, he enjoyed the cake. I never liked a cheese cake from that night only until now. Tonight, I feel like having a bite of New York cheese cake.

This story of New York cheese cake isn't a selling point of a miserable stupid me but a fear of not succeeding in the relationship I always wish which is the worst blow to security. I told myself several times while writing this, "Out of it, Sheriel. This is the monumental obstacle you created." I even asked me, "You want to live by past reputation?"

Would it sound wrong of me to say: I want? But I do want: a happy love story consisting of two human beings appreciating each other or having someone with wisest sense to not leave the girlfriend (immediately) after she bought a RM89.90 cake. I want more than a happy love story. I want to be alive, seen and heard.

I forgave him long time ago, for deserting me. Last year I heard, he married a doctor and perhaps now expecting a baby. I don’t know. I never had any intentions to be updated with his life. I moved on. But tonight, let’s put the blame on New York cheese cake.

“Would you have the guts to admit you’d made a wrong choice?”, asked by so many people. I didn’t simply answer. How could I know that the choices I made were all wrong until he proved himself so. I liked his warmth, bigness and being-there. I liked his jokes, stories and what he read. I baked cookies and cake, delivered to his campus every raya without failed. All my likings were effort too. I compromised to bear with his weakness, afterall he is just a human being. Was I not good enough? So how could such efforts turn suddenly into a wrong choice just because it was not a successful relationship?

I got rejected by him saying that, “I don’t feel the sparks anymore.” I had no guarantee from the very beginning that how hard I tried and developed myself, it was all just more than mediocre.

Of efforts and relationship, of forgiveness and moving on, of writing and craving – I should have just started my engine, perhaps by now I’d found New York cheese cake at any store available at 2:00am, or, it is just as impossible as having love in return.