(Day 11/122 of the experiment)
6:30 AM, I woke up feeling light and energetic, as if I had spent a week in the Maldives. After my morning run (not a stroll, mind you, but a RUN), I meditated in the yard, called Max, and asked him to take in the lost athlete Cinderella today. And of course, I wrote to Tristan about my successes:
-Wow, you’re amazing! I also started the morning with sports and a healthy breakfast.
-And I’m just boiling buckwheat and frying a steak.
-Do you like cooking? I would love to try your steak :)
-I can't boast that I cook like the chef at your restaurant, but it's edible. So come over, I’ll feed you.
-Thank you very much for the invitation! But it feels a bit awkward to impose on a girl who has only seen me once in life. What do you think about Japanese cuisine, wine, and then a walk and coffee at the gas station at night?))
-Mmm, sounds delicious. When?
-I'll pick you up at eight. Dress casually and comfortably.
-Deal! See you soon!
So, after training, I quickly got home and started getting ready. Now I’m gathering my things, walking 3 km, then taking the bus, zooming to the gym, and then just as quickly zooming back home.
I pick up my phone to turn on some music and see this horror. A truly terrifying horror—there's no other way to put it. Horror in tenfold volume. Ma-ni-cur. Or rather, the lack thereof. Just yesterday at the restaurant, I thought I urgently needed to find a master and schedule an appointment to turn my nails-grotesque into a neat manicure.
-Lily, hello! I’m reaching out to you for a very important and urgent matter—I say, while feeling my heart racing. Maybe Tristan thought my nails weren’t just neglected but that my home and entire life were too? He wouldn't be wrong about life, by the way.
-What happened? Do you need help?—I can tell from Lily's tone that I might have exaggerated the scale of my disaster a bit.
-I need a manicure master. Urgently. For today. I’m meeting with Tristan today, and my nails look like I’ve been digging in the garden all day.
-I’ll text you the phone number. My master is Tanya. She rarely has time “today,” but call her—maybe she can fit you in quickly. By the way, her studio is not far from our gym.
-Thank you so much! I’ll call her.
The universe probably didn’t want me to fall face-first into the mud in front of Tristan again, because Tanya had time today. A perfect French manicure and my hands are once again delicate and beautiful.
I rummage through my closet looking for something casual, comfortable, and at the same time elegant. I settled on a knitted sweater, a leather jacket, skinny jeans, and ankle boots. This way, I won’t freeze and can walk for a long time. Heels would have looked more striking, of course, but you can’t walk much in them.
Time with Tristan flies by so fast, as if someone is making the clock’s hands run at double speed.
We had sushi, I told him about my experiment and my new life for the next four months. Surprisingly, Tristan praised me and said I would definitely win a car from May. Then we strolled for a long time, and I didn’t feel cold at all, even though the temperature was lower than the app on my smartphone predicted. I felt so warm—inside and out. As if some warmth penetrated every cell of my body. And then Tristan took my hand and kissed me. And it wasn’t a formal kiss when a guy senses the “right moment,” but rather a kiss of love. I felt our hearts connect and start beating faster and faster. My secret side craved more, but Tristan tactfully declined, citing that he was going on a business trip tomorrow and had to get up early.
So, at one in the morning, I was already home, pondering what I was doing wrong. I fell asleep with a restlessness in my soul and Richard by my side.
(Day 12/122 of the experiment)
Waking up at 6:30 today felt like a heroic deed, which I just couldn't bring myself to do. I honestly opened my eyes at seven in the morning and checked Instagram. My photo from the opening of CANTUCCINI gathered over two hundred likes and more than 50 comments. Everyone was complimenting my appearance and the sparkle in my eyes. Even Tristan87 left three smileys.
Such attention to my persona should have made me happy and motivated, but I felt an intense anger. Anger towards Tristan and towards myself. I was angry at the man of my dreams because he clearly made me understand that I was not the woman with whom he would like to "plant a tree, build a house, and raise a son" – he hadn't come to visit me, hadn't talked about a shared future, and refused when I made ambiguous hints. I was angry at myself for having fallen for him so quickly and seemingly unrequitedly. I hoped that Tristan was just very polite and didn't want to rush things. This meant that he considered me as a potential partner. But what made me think that?
After 20 minutes of tears and suffering, I made a firm decision – not to call, not to text, and not to respond to Tristan for the next three days, excluding today. I quickly texted Lila about my decision – this way, I would have less temptation to pick up my phone and start sending cutesy messages to the man of my dreams. We unanimously set the date for today's "Tristan is a goat" club meeting. So, after washing my hair and meditating, I began to get ready.
The pedometer showed already eight thousand steps, and it would take about ten more minutes to walk to the café. Mentally congratulating myself, I continued moving.
- Cinderella, come on, tell me!
- Lila, what can I say? We hang out, talk all day, but Tristan is behaving strangely and I really don't understand whether he likes me or not. – I said, holding back tears.
- That's very strange. Ivan called him the next morning after the restaurant opening and he was in such a buoyant mood, so we thought you had made plans for a date.
- Yes, we went on a date yesterday. We talked about everything in the world, I told him about my experiment and the car I was doing all this for. Then we even kissed! So sincere and tender!
- Well...
- And that's it. Tristan said he was going on a business trip today and would get up early, so we have to stop here. It's so strange to me. I thought men were just obsessed with sex. But it turns out that it’s quite the opposite.
- Cinderella, why don’t you think that Tristan just really wanted to get a good night's sleep?
- I don’t know.
The conversation with Lila made my relationship with Tristan even more complicated. One moment I was sure that he didn’t like me, and that’s why he abruptly ended our date yesterday. And now I started to think the problem was with me – that I was rushing into all of this.
I spent the evening in front of YouTube. I drank peppermint tea, ate the healthy cookies I had made myself, shared the recipe with my followers, and watched videos about relationship psychology. It turned out that our country was rich not only in talented scientists, but also in good psychologists.
Tristan texted and called three times, but I didn’t pick up the phone and didn’t respond to the messages.