The only exception these days, is of course the intolerance that comes so quick. Thank goodness for incalculated manners. I know that I felt somewhat guilty and penitent after that outpouring of scorn (online) about that annoying man. And had I not been restrained by good manners when the incident took place, I would have done something that I would have immured myself in such a mire of mutual bad feeling that I wouldn't be able to pull myself out of.

That is my most besetting flaw. The blind spot that ensures that whoever has the misfortune to blaze himself into my bad books is never erased. There will forever be this wall of coolness and disdain between said person and I.

As it is, I think I was so reserved and cool with that annoying man that I probably ended up sounding extremely curt (and rude) to his later attempts at conversation.

But ennui is what I blame for my disinterest in almost everything else. Including the Beau. It is probably why I don't feel much when re-reading my past entries except the occasional self-censorship and critical analysis, and maybe a complex roil of sadness and amusement at my own naivety. I digress.

I have noticed that a number of people in the blog community are embroiled in the situation of long distance relationships. A couple of them are not explicitly involved in one. Instead they are the confidants of someone who is. Nevertheless, a scenario which should evoke some sort of empathy is merely regarded with cool detachment.

The Beau has been gone for over two months. And I will probably not see him for quite a while yet. But there is no excess of dependence or of loss attached to the entire situation. Yes, I look forward to his phone calls. A couple of times, I did weep and refuse to let him end the call, because I couldn't bear to sever the electronic connection we had. I smile when I receive a SMS. I check my mail religiously and it puts me in a good mood when he does write. But all in all, in comparison with the last relationship with the Captain, I sense a difference.

It could be because this isn't the first LDR I am going through. Mentally, I understand the logistics of the situation and subconsciously no longer allocate that many resources to actively miss the Beau. Perhaps, I have slipped easily into the rhythm of independence and self-reliance incalculated earlier, because it is a familiar routine.

Maybe I don't like this boyfriend as much as I liked the last one. (I hardly tell him I love him anymore, and the few times I do, I had to choke the words out.)

Or perhaps, as I have pondered on for quite a while, maybe I just don't like men that fall too deeply in love with me. Maybe, I am one of those masochistic women who prefer the malestrom of pain and uncertainty in a relationship to a nice normal loving one. Analysing my past relationship with the Capt., I realised that my desire for him was the strongest in the beginning when it stemmed from the uncertainty of his feelings. He was clingy, dependent and far too possessive when I ended it.

It is now the same with the Beau. In the recent months, he has succumbed to the "absence makes the heart grow fonder" syndrome. He now realises how "comfortable" he actually feels when he is with me, in spite of all our spirited arguments. The one time I caught him at a lie, he scurried around at 4 in the morning looking for a public payphone so that he could call me and explain. He also apologised for the first time in as long as I can remember.

And it was not just a grudging apology; it was a teary one, wrenched from a fear of losing me and thick with swallowed pride. It was also heavily redolent of the same heady emotion that characterised the first weeks of our relationship and the early quarrels. And he swallowed his pride again two weeks later when I was miserable and depressed.

Somehow, I cannot seem to break my feelings into its proper components. Is this lack of interest due to a knowledge of loving security? Or is it merely a symptom of the wider spread of ennui? Or perhaps I am content in my insulated singular world at this moment?

Perhaps I am masochistic. I guess, I could sum up my criteria for a partner. He has to be able to dominate me; any man who is trampled into the dust is regarded as weak and dull and I lose interest. It enables the outpour of feeling that makes me feel alive. Too often I see a relationship as a power struggle. Sometimes I am seized by the fear that if I am careless enough, I will lose it all in some foolish childish competitiveness.

All of which is not a sign of a healthy person, or a person able to maintain a healthy relationship.