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His Good Opinion Once Lost, is Lost Forever
August 22, 2003, 5:55 p.m. It seems I cannot read a murder mystery, set in the Middle Ages and unravelled by a monk, without witnessing the trespass against his vows of chastity – nor can I conclude the book without a library or scriptorium going up in flames. I wonder – have I simply chanced upon two books that happen to share certain similarities, or are they requisite plot points for all medieval murder mysteries involving monks? I have two tutorial presentations to give next week, on Monday and Wednesday. I really should be working on the Monday one, at least, but no, writing a diary entry : ) Today I lolled about, reading The Inquisitor by Catherine Jinks – which I will be talking about in my speech, but didn’t really need to read. In odd moments, when I tired of the story, I entertained myself by going over memories of my relationship with the Elf-boy. On the whole, he was quite a good boyfriend – I certainly had only very minor complaints, being his girlfriend. It doesn’t hurt to do it, to go over it, which is good. I like the pleasure I derive from remembering it – mainly just the little things. Like how we held each other for nearly a full minute when I got back from Canada. Kissing him for the first time. Sleeping next to him for the first time. How he used to look at me, and hold me, and enjoy being near me. And how whenever I would get scared, and do my curling-up trick, he would coax me back to facing him and my fears. If it happened once, it will surely happen again. I think I have stopped loving him. I hope I’m not deluding myself, but it feels real. Although, I do hope that he gets over his anger, and becomes my friend again. No one wants another to despise their every little idiosyncrasy, which it would appear is his estimation of me, at the moment. I hope that he will come back, but I doubt it. I’ve been in a similar situation before, and often, once you lost the ability to tolerate the presence of a person, nothing can bring it back. And I thought I would be the one having trouble fighting off loathing . . . Oh well . . . I really should get back to my uni-work.
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