On this day, 1 year ago, Singapore had its general election and the world commemorated the 9/11 bombing. 360000 babies were born and 151600 people took their last breaths, while an infant started to mumble papa (or Ipad I don’t know). Among the hustle of an ordinary day, there was also a man named Steph (in short) who climbed out of the “friendzone” 6 years later.
Well here’s my story about love.
When I was 16, I fell in love with a guy, J, and we roughed out the happiest and saddest moments for over 5 years. He was the memory of counting all our coins just to catch the last train home (because we spent it on catching sweets) till he got his driver’s license at 18, and when I got my first ‘proper’ job. I remember our first snowfall in Beijing and when he called me to celebrate his results as he studied just to enter the same school as me. We practically shared a life even as a family on overseas trips. But people grow up, grow out, and unfortunately grow apart sometimes.
Being in love and being in a relationship are two separate things. Love is a language to be learnt: the feeling alone doesn’t guarantee a happy relationship if you don’t know how to love the way your partner needs. Though J and I were childhood sweethearts, it became an unhealthy obsession I had to leave behind. Maybe because we loved each other more than ourselves that it drove us mad, or perhaps we were too young to settle our incompatibility. As I grew older, I got to know myself better and who I wanted to be that it rippled through every aspect of my life including my choice in men.
Steph on the other side of the galaxy was never “my type”.