In the hours leading up to the first date, I was fidgety and restless at work, charged with anticipation and curiosity. We've been talking for a long time and our conversations were flirty and intellectual, and I was terrified that we might turn out to be awkward strangers in person. My phone buzzed with a reminder of you, a joke between us on my inability to be punctual. I grabbed my bag, slipped on my heels and touched up my makeup. And there you were, sitting in the middle of Raffles Place, amongst a sea of people. Hello, finally.
We would walk through Fullerton Hotel to my favourite bar and have a table facing the bay and the skyline of this beautiful city. As the evening drew on, we watched the bar fill up with the evening crowd and empty out as the regular city dwellers finish their happy hour beers and head home. I can't remember what we talked about but I remember looking into your blue-green eyes and watching the city lights spark in your eyes. Neither of us wanted to leave, so we took a long, long walk and stayed out way too late. The night fell deeper and the city slipped into an inky blue veil of silence and tranquility. We sat down by the river, watching the shimmering darkness of stars dancing on the water. I waited and waited for you to kiss me but you were too much of a gentleman, and eventually we left for home at 2am, still reluctant to part ways.
Eventually you would kiss the side of my mouth like a shy school boy; eventually I would hold you in the middle of the night, getting to know you for the first time; eventually you would kiss me on the morning before you left for Bali and Paris, 10 days later. In the 3 months you were away, I missed you with an ache in my heart and a frustration at the gods that decided to play this terrible joke on us. We wrote long emails and had longer fights and we almost lost each other.
And then on a Saturday morning, I woke up to horrifying images of Paris under siege. You were my first thought. I broke our long silence and sent you a small prayer, hoping that the senseless terror left you untouched. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was meant to be, and like they said, the rest was pretty much history.
We spent the last moments of 2015 over a bottle of wine at my favourite restaurant, watching fireworks light up the sky to welcome the new year; and the first weekends of 2016 exploring the parks and forests all around Singapore. Sunday mornings became our favourite time of the week, cooking breakfast, making coffee and starting the day with a light banter. We had the time of our lives on our first trip to an island in the Philippines, despite finding ourselves standing on a dirt road with a broken tricycle after 12 hours of traveling, while the sun threatened to set. Between snorkeling in crystal blue waters and lazing on the pristine beaches and haggling with mercenary local 'businessmen', we got to know each other better and learnt to love each other better too. Shortly after our trip, I turned 27 and you made sure I had the most romantic night with a 3 course dinner and tealight candles in old French jam jars on your terrace.
And then on a Tuesday morning, I woke up to your lovely sleeping face and felt tears trickle down my face, knowing it would be the last time I would wake up beside you in a long time. I snuggled up to you and hugged you a little tighter, hoping to keep you with me for a little longer. Like before, life threw us another curveball and you had to go back to France. Unlike before, we were sure about each other, even if nothing else in life is certain. And that is more than enough.
You're 10,000km away now and I've never loved you more.
In the year of 2016, I am in love with a man from a faraway land, yet it's him who feels like home. We met on a regular Wednesday night, in the middle of the universe, where our names were etched in the inky blue skies and our prayers are locked in the stars. In this moment, we were meant to be infinite, and we will find our way to each other again.
