It seems that the blogging community is recently caught in a flurry because two of our members are waiting for the rice to cook in the rice cooker!
Wait a minute, it doesn’t involve me. So why am I so excited?
I suppose it’s because their budding love stories remind me of how it used to be with the boyfriend and I. They remind me of the things we used to do.
The first movie we ever watched was the Japanese film, Love Letters. He drove me to school for my A’levels exams after I had shifted and would need to journey for more than an hour. He bought me mango sorbet ice-cream when I was stuck in school mugging. He would page me silly messages, back in the days when I had an alpha-numeric Memo Jazz pager. I would sms him, using Internet Messaging (which he had to pay for because M1 charges $0.10 per message). He would pick me up and send me home, no matter where I was.
In the end, he picked an auspicious date to “propose” to me. We were standing on the Sheares Bridge, looking at fireworks and waiting for the countdown on New Year’s Eve. And at the stroke of 12, he whipped out a ring and popped the question, “Will you be my girlfriend?” (cue orchestral music)
And now, it’s been four and a half years since that moment when I said yes. Of course, I know now his extremely unromantic reason for choosing that date. It’s not because of the fireworks or the significance of it. It’s simply because it’s an easy date to remember and he would not forget our anniversary.
Through these past five years, we went through a lot. We split up last August and then reconciled a short four weeks ago. I never really spoke about what happened and I am thankful that my dear friends did not push me for an explanation. They merely asked if I was happy and when they saw that I was, accepted it.
I received a pleasant surprise last Sunday when he showed me all the things that I had given him in the course of our relationship. What was even more astonishing is the fact that he had kept all my email to him, almost 800 of them. And as I stood there, watching the monitor, I couldn’t help but cry.
For the ten months that we had wasted.
For all the keepsakes and email that I had discarded, in a bid to clean up my life.
For the tears that I had shed and times when I just wanted to hide in bed and not face the world.
For this second chance that we have and the happiness that we have now.
And now, I can’t help but feel overjoyed that Ash and Fur are taking a stab at love.
For Fur, because we have all been asking the same question, puzzled for four years, “Why doesn’t Fur have a boyfriend?”
For Ash, because I know what she has gone through and I truly hope that the kitten (hee hee) will be good for her.
Because both of you, as do all of us, deserve nothing but the best.