I Know You Would Never Read This, But

Hear me out.

The first thing I will tell you?

"I'm so sorry."

You wouldn't recognize me; or if you did, you wouldn't wanna hear it. You wouldn't wanna have it. You'd pass me by, thinking I'm a stranger.

"I know who you are, and I know you know me."

You stopped walking. The stopping was awkward it was more akin to a froze. You froze.

"I know you hate me, and you have forgotten about me completely, but just... listen. I just have one thing to say."

You still wouldn't budge. Wouldn't even turn around to look at me. I'm speaking to your back.

"I just wanna say I'm sorry. About what happened. How I chose to do it. I was a coward. You didn't deserve it at all. I just wanna tell you that. Nothing more. I will leave now, thank you so much for listening to this."

You still don't move.

I turn around and leave. Breathe a sigh of relief.

This time, I said I'm sorry. I apologize.

This time, I did it right.

This time, I know I can finally live with myself.

My Loneliness Was Killing Me (But I Survived)

Last weekend, I experienced what will be the future of my weekends starting this month: being the only child left to spend the weekends at my parents'.

Before you jump to any conclusion, and in case you didn't know: I'm the youngest out of 3 girls, with the eldest being 10 years older than me. Out of all of them, I was always the one who was fiercely independent. For instance, I was able to walk myself home from kindergarten at the tender age of 5, while the entire world is crumbling around me with massive protests and violence (that I hardly understood the scale of). I was 15 the first time I traveled without my family - and it was for 2 weeks of the summer in Europe. I was 17 when I first live in a boarding house outside of time for college, and then 18 when I lived in an apartment by myself.

Naturally, by the time I was 21 and had to move back home to my parents after college, I felt a bit of unease. I have always, always loved my independence and freedom. By the time I was 24, I lived alone in Chicago and by the time I was 26, after 1 year back in Jakarta, I literally asked my mom for my own place - which resulted in me living in my current apartment with my sister. She, by the way, is getting married in 2 weeks.

I am both excited to get my full freedom back, but also... scared.

While I was home last weekend, I read a book of personal essays by an Indonesian writer and journalist Isyana Artharini titled I am My Own Home. It's a book of... well, personal essays. About the aloneness of living and being alone. About loving the freedom of it, but at the same questioning whether she really enjoys it. I finished the entire book (which was not long) within the day, and couldn't help but noticed how, when I was 24-25 years old living alone in Downtown Chicago, I also was always haunted by the same agony as the writer had felt. A similar feeling where I always felt like I love my independence. But I also feel the silence can be very deafening.

At the risk of romanticizing my time living alone in Chicago, I have spent the last 2 nights thinking of what life was like back then in a more objective view. Back then, I came into the living alone idea of being very excited and happy and not at all scared, only to find that that sensation didn't last very long. Yes, I can do whatever the fuck I want with all the space and time that I have in the privacy of my own apartment. I can even walk around naked and no one will complain. I can eat Flamin' Hot Cheetos for breakfast and literally nobody will tell me that it's wrong. 

But now that I'm older, wiser, and more realistic about the technicalities of life and what the world expects out of a woman like me, I get to see it differently. I was also miserable. I was also lonely. I felt empty a lot. I walked around aimlessly on the days I have no reading or assignment, and I wouldn't stop until my hands shivered (in the winter) or my thighs chafe (in the summer). I like eating out, but doing it alone feels stupid; plus American portions are definitely too big for me (also: I was broke AF being a student, right). I hated cooking for myself because (1) I could not make it taste good because of how amateur I was, and (2) I will have so much leftovers and I'm the type who can't be bothered with leftovers. I love sitting alone in a coffee shop, but again, I was broke AF so it was not possible for me to do that too often. 

I hated the weekends because that's when the loneliness was magnified. Everyone gets to go to have picnic in the park, drinking rosé on the patio... the list goes on. But I had nobody and no plans whatsoever. I hated the weekends because at least I know people don't really have anything going on other than the regular work/school thing on the weekdays.

That was the very first time I went to see a counselor, who then taught me mindfulness. It was the first time in my life where I realize that it is not wrong when people say Homo sapiens are social creatures. I cannot sustain being on my own for a prolonged period of time. I have to make a human interaction, sharing human experience with someone else. Of course, because that was the first time in my life that has happened to me, and I was young and stupid with so much room for mistake, that's easily what I did: I made mistakes.

I went on so many first dates I got really good at it. I mean, I can be very likeable if you don't know me long or deep enough and I didn't know that until by then. I didn't know that I can be charming and that my life background can be made interesting, depending on how I tell the story. It was also through this serial first dates that I realized how so many people in Chicago were also... alone. Of course, I don't know if they're lonely. I hope they're not. And if back then they were, hopefully by now they're all coupled up, or at least not lonely. But one thing that I really liked about dating in Chicago was how most of the people there are emotionally intelligent. They may not be emotionally available all the time, but in average, their emotional intelligence is above the people I met here. Something about their lives there, or what brought them there... have shaped the way that they access their emotions. This opinion, of course, is limited only to the ones I met and does not extend to every single guy in Chicago. And I'm not gonna lie, sometimes I miss them terribly. I miss the me from that era. At that point in life, I was pretty much inexperienced with love, let alone relationships. I never knew how to flirt or attract someone. So every single dating misadventures (aka. ghosting) that happened back then -- it hit the me, who was already struggling with loneliness, twice harder. I remember I never once questioned if something is wrong me. I knew it wasn't because I was undesirable; it was just the thing that happened when you are dating. It happens to the best of us. But 25 year old me didn't know that -- she was teaching herself to be more resilient, to be more accepting, to grow thick skin, and just move on to the next thing. Because I still remember how my heart ached when somebody gave me a UTI and then ghosted me. When someone told me he's coming over with a sushi platter and then ghosted me. When somebody just disappeared into thin air after he bruised my lips on a night out clubbing. 

That year, I realized how it's actually a good idea to manage loneliness; and why governments around the world start to establish Ministry of Loneliness. Humans are not going to sustain themselves being alone. Even if they do, they will make choices that may sound questionable and would someday called a mistake (like I just did two paragraphs ago).

Sometimes when I remember those times, I feel proud of how far I've come today without ever really losing my self-worth. And I was doing all the healing alone. I don't know how I did that, but I know I did. Because I wouldn't be here if I didn't somehow survive that loneliness. God knows where I'll be - maybe just on to another series of mistakes?

Friday Night Lights

I was taking my regular walk around my neighborhood tonight around 7:30pm when a sinking feeling overwhelmed me and made me almost turned back and give up that walk. I passed by my office building. The fancy restaurant where I used to go to (and had some kind of memory I kind of want to erase now). The live music bar where I used to go with someone I used to know after work. The hotel I used to stop by. 

I looked at the fleet of cars outside of that restaurant and bar. The people who were waiting outside of the office building for their cab or ojek to pick them up. The people who were walking back from the shopping mall towards where I was standing. And then, eventually, I looked at the restaurant patrons. The people sitting there or coming in and out of them.

I think about what they are doing; where they are going; who they are doing it or going with. I think about how I have been all of them. Right at that very same time. Perhaps 16 or 48 months ago. I can remember so many of those Friday nights at 7:30pm and they are so vivid I can still taste what it all felt like.

And then I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. My heart sank, and sadness washed over me like warm water. What is this? What is happening?

I guess I just... really don't want to go back to that place anymore. That period of time. That stage. That level of maturity. I don't want to, and a little scared of any possibility that might lead me back there again. Because I think... I think the me who was there, the me from 2 years ago... she would be happy to see me now, if not a little proud? Maybe a little skeptical... but I'm sure if she had known this is where she would be in about 2 years, she probably can't wait to fast forward two years and be who she is today.

Or at least I hope so. I hope she's not still absolutely cynical about everything in life and silently cry in the office at 2am. 

Perhaps this is what it is supposed to be

Newsflash: yesterday, I was walking back from lunch with two of my co-workers when all of a sudden I stumbled upon a pile of cables and sprained my ankle. The X-Ray showed nothing wrong but I have to spend today resting in bed with my sprained ankle elevated and not really doing anything (thankfully work is also manageable today).

So what I did was, while alone and half-crippled in my apartment, other than browsing for food deliveries and looking into whether I should invest in cryptocurrency... yup, you guessed it right. I looked at some of my former flames' current lives. Which, you know, having been listening to Olivia Rodrigo's album incessantly in the past week... maybe I shouldn't have? 

I do that every now and then with the Painter but obviously, because I worked so hard to get over him, even though it is not 100% yet for me (for sure for him it's like, 15000% already), I have no problem whatsoever. I'm genuinely happy with the way that his life turned out to be, if not a little proud, of him. He made things work for them. Maybe he wouldn't be able to make anything work with me, so it was the right thing to do. I feel... justified. (Although as you know, I'm still not proud of how I did it)

And of course, that's not exactly what happened today.

The Consultant is married. I've known this for some time, he's been engaged for some time, too. I never knew to whom. Today I found out, and gosh, that is some really beautiful woman. He's made VP of a bank. She runs her own business, very talented in interior design and flower arrangement... Basically, they're gonna make a very, very beautiful home. It also looks like he's moved back to the city that he's always loved so much and she grew up there, it seems? At least her family is. Her background is also similar to him although maybe not exactly, but I knew for two Muslims (or raised-Muslims) in the US, that's more than enough. I'm so happy for them. So happy. I always thought he was emotionally available, but of course, people can change, and maybe he was only unavailable for me.

And then there's the Ad Man. I've talked about this person a few times here for some reason. I guess he is special in one way or another to me. He's back to dating someone now and this time actually feels different from last year. Around this time last year was when things started to get really weird. Now that he's in that place again, and I am still feeling very secure where I am, it actually is a very good thing for me. What's bad is simply that... 

...you know how people say that there are girls who hate "losing a fan"?

This is it. That is me right now. I hate losing a fan. That is what it feels like now. That is what it felt like when The Accountant told her he was getting married 3 years ago (he didn't). That is what it feels like last year with the same person. I know, it's selfish. It's 100% the song "happier" by Olivia Rodrigo. I hate this feeling. 

I know that like everything else with this person, it'll pass soon. What's happening is I'm currently alone with my thoughts and my computer screen and my phone and got too much time on my hands, so I actually got to think about it all. However, seeing these 3 people today, I can't help but think that...

...sometimes you can't see why things didn't work out back then, and so you made all of these excuses in your head to justify why. But then time keeps on moving, and things actually fall into place, and when you look into it, you think to yourself, "Oh, I'm glad it ends up this way. It would never have been this wonderful if things had stayed the same."

I don't know if it makes sense to you, but it does for me. 

7x4

I'm officially 28!

This is a somewhat... important, number, for me. This is the age that I always told people would be the age when I would be ready to mature up, or as I put it back then, "I would not get married before I'm 28."

I hope I'm not wrong to say this, but being home most of the time in the past year, I have somewhat turned... maybe not wiser, but I guess more mature? Less risk-taker, more settle-down type. I prefer to spend on things I will definitely give me some sort of protection, some sort of health. Maybe it's because I watch how close death is with all of us... How I have started to see what should be my priority. How I realized that I still lack the things that my parents have had when they were my age - which may be an indication that I should immediately change, otherwise I may not have a comfortable life that they were able to provide for me.

My wish is that for this 28th year of my life be spent wisely; in love and out of grudge or hatred for anyone. Happiness is futile and maybe it shouldn't be the goal - maybe it should just be a bonus instead. I have to admit that I am happy and content with my life as it is now. Of course it can be better - but maybe this "contentedness" is more sustainable and maybe this is what we should aim for instead.

On Valentine's Day, Love, and Them

Me, 2021

Hi everyone! Happy new year! And since it's been 45 days into 2021 - Happy Valentine's Day!

Never before in my 27 years, have I ever celebrated Valentine's Day. I never really said it to anyone - and even if I have, probably just out of politeness or societal requirements. Long story short, I don't hate it. I just don't believe in it.

And two years ago, I ghosted someone just two days before Valentine's Day because I was too... scared, to face this very day, with someone who probably has moved on from me while I was still crashing into love with him.

Fast forward two years later, I found someone who also claim to have never celebrated Valentine's Day, but changed his mind this year. And consequently, I changed my mind about it, too.

I have to admit a few things here before you all got the wrong idea. I love the person that I am celebrating this year's Valentine's Day with. He has changed my mind about a lot of things. A good speaker. Roses. Long distance relationship. Monogamy. Valentine's Day. He has touched my heart before he touched my body. I love him, and I am very thankful because I found him. I'm so lucky, and he is the reason I got through a lot of things - I got through the dreadful year of 2020 with such a breeze because of him. Long story short, he's been such a blessing.

But then something irks me still. How come after all these years - after everything that happened, and after finding myself a new love that I am happy and comfortable in... It still hurts to think of what I did two years ago? Why? I know I found it extremely hard to get over him but eventually I did, and now I am actually happy with what I have, and I can proudly say that I am happy to see him happy. I no longer think to myself, "That could be me." No. I've moved past that, and yet... How come he still lingers every now and then?

And then I saw this on Instagram story of one of my favorite artists:

@bymariandrew

This Valentine's Day, I want to expressly write about how the past two years have taught so many things about love - especially romantic love. I have learned that yes, some people come into your life as either a blessing or a lesson, but even when you thought someone came as a lesson, that in and of itself is still a blessing. We should allow ourselves to have some people that can never stop loving. Because I think we do have that someone; maybe even more than one. That doesn't mean we don't love our present, that we don't respect them enough. It just means that we acknowledge a time in our lives where someone and something special took place. We don't discount the happiness we currently have just because we still think something wonderful happened to us in the past. I think we should welcome the idea that maybe that someone is only special because of our idea of them, but even just that "idea" lives somewhere in our heart. They'll live there for a long time if not forever, but our hearts are made of muscles that can expand too. We will all love again someday, and build more rooms for more people and love in the future  ❤️

Who does our lives belong to?

The year is 2020. 

The pandemic happened. 

Millions of people died - including some of your own family members. Your grandmother. Your aunt. Your oldest cousin's wife. Your friend's dads.

The year is 2020. It was so, so bad. Everyone just couldn't stop talking about please let 2020 just pass and welcome 2021 already. Everyone is exhausted and devastated. It was a very tough year for literally everyone. No one is spared. Except maybe Jeff Bezos? But surely he had his own nightmares too.

Something that you learned very well in 2020 is about how fragile life is. How it's probably just... a concept? How science probably can't explain how people retain their life and then lose it in a heartbeat. How your life is not yours.

Because when you're gone, it's not you who will miss it. It's other people you leave behind. Those who love you. Those whose lives you touched. Those who just didn't know how much of a presence your are in the world while you were still here.

You watched your friend went from that funny work wife to a person whose life leaves here slowly. She went from bright-eyed girl with bright future straight out of law school in Western Europe, to someone who can barely understand your words. This reminds you of your grandmother - who went from a healthy septuagenarian dropping wisdom every so often that you even wrote here about, to an octogenarian who had been laying in vegetative state for a couple of years before her life left her body. And you cried over it for two days.

This life - this entire experience, doesn't get better with age. It doesn't get easier as time goes by; you just learned that now, having spent 27 years on earth and 8 months of that mostly at home avoiding a highly contagious deadly virus. 

But that's the best - and worst - thing about time. It has complete disregard of whether or not you excel in things that happen in your life. It doesn't care how you are coping with it. It doesn't give a fuck how you are doing. It keeps going at its own pace. It moves on no matter how much you want it to stop. So no matter how you are doing in life... you are unlikely to stay in the same place forever. It will bring you somewhere. Maybe not geographically or physically - but you just won't be the same person forever. Because no matter how bad or how good you are in this life, time is bound to throw something at you. It's all completely up to you what to make of it - or what not to make of it.

I'm rambling here, I know. At the time you were writing this, you just watched your friend slowly disappearing inside the body of someone you know. It's the same body; a little different because it retains more water now, but it's the same. And yet you don't know her. You only know parts of who she is. 

She is disappearing, and you feel so helpless. You don't know what to do. Or how to help.

You want to cry, but there is really no very good reason to cry now. She is there. And you will be a horrible person to go ahead of time and think of the worst possible outcome.

You don't know why you're writing this, mostly out of worry and feeling guilty for think what you are thinking. You hope that when you read this again in the future, you remember how it feels to still care. To not lose any care in the world. To appreciate life again. To always, and forever, be grateful of the life you have.

True Love Will Find You (In The End)

Is it too early to start contemplating about 2020?

I feel like it's not, of course. But this is a short but somehow very significantly packed year in all of our lives, and the pandemic has affected every single one of us in one way or another, so I think maybe there are still things to happen in the 30+ days to come. Alas, let that not stop me from writing about my favorite topic of all time, and it is something that somehow I have avoided talking about since 2019: love.

I don't know if you know - well, if you're reading this then I suppose that we are very close in real life so you must have known - but in 2019 I had one of the most painful heartbreaks I've ever had in my life. Granted, I don't have that many heartbreaks in the first place, but it was... painful. Almost two years later, I still carry some of that pain right now, as I'm writing this.

Almost two years in, and somehow I can't get over the idea that he's probably one of my greatest loves, and I think all that pain - all of those long nights of not being able to sleep well or breathe easy or get my mind off him - it was mostly because I was afraid that I will not be able to find someone like him again. I will never love again. I've missed that one great love my life could ever get. That it was probably all the love I'll ever get.

And what's more - I never stopped missing him.

But then I have learned, through many tears and breathlessness and drunk nights out and talking about it with everyone who was willing to listen... that I don't have to stop missing him just because for some reason he can't be an active part of my life anymore. I can separate the desire to want to have him in my life, and the fact that I love the person, wherever he is; no matter how much he isn't in my orbit anymore. This way,  I can just accept the situation as it is and keep on missing them. I can still hold the love, without any of the side effects. 

This year, I lost someone who may or may not love me - but if I'm being brutally honest (and this is my page, so I'm allowed to be if not mandatory) even though I would never admit this... I guess to a certain extent, at least from my side, there was some love there too. Because when he walked away from my life while exercising the hot potato game, I too, was hurt. Did I know that I love him? Well, I did tell my best friend (and this is verbatim) that "...if I only have to think about him the the past month, yes I love him. But that means I'm completely ignoring the fact that the past 11 months, he had been horrible and I never even once think of love or even care about him. And if it didn't do it for me in 11 months, then it's just not gonna happen."

I stood by that still. But do I miss him now? ...yeah. Yeah, I do. And sucks as it is, this time is still better because at least I get to tell him that I actually miss him. And he knows it (although he might also think everybody loves him). The only thing getting in the way?

The person I actually love, and don't want to lose.

You know how there's all of these love stories where someone eventually meet someone they never thought they would ever end up with. Someone who doesn't look, or sound, anything like they ever thought this person would be. Someone who came from the most unexpected place, at the most unexpected time. 

And yet, somehow, fills out all of the expectations.

This person is it for me. He made me want to clean up my acts and change the way I live my life - bit by bit, but I do want to get better. Not for him, but because I just appreciate my life more. Knowing that there's someone who loves me for me - and I just don't wanna let this person down. So ultimately try to stop doing whatever I was doing; and start looking at that era as something utterly pathetic. As a result? I'm happier than I've ever been in a long time. Maybe since my last week in Chicago; which was well spent with the first person mentioned in this post.

I have to admit that the happiness is not the same. Not better. Not worse. Not more. Not less. Just different. That last week in Chicago I felt as if there's fireworks all around me. My mind was bursting with happiness and like my skin glowed in the way it never did before. This time, it just simply feels... comfortable. Like nothing too bad could ever happen, and I will never be rejected. Every day of my life just feels like... like a fluffy cushion. Like I'm walking amongst the clouds of clear bright sky.

The only catch? I've never physically met this person.

I know. It's weird. If it wasn't my own experienced I'd think it's dumb, but I have definitely changed my mind about this particular matter. I hope that it means I've grown? I don't know. I guess I'd just like to believe that change is usually good and that we will only grow outside of comfort zone - and this is definitely both of that: a change, and something that is outside of my comfort zone. 

What Happened?

Today, over one and a half year after I left you on read, never to be heard from again, I think of what you must had gone through.

In wonder. In confusion. Perhaps in anger. All of that in silence.

It still makes me hard to breathe thinking about that night. I still remember everything that happened. What I was working on. The last thing we talked about.

I don't think I'll ever forget.

I didn't know I could tell you

It all started as innocent and unassuming. I viewed your stories - which you have not done in a while, and I honestly almost always do. Then you called me a stalker and asked how I was doing. I felt guilty for making you think I'm stalking you, so I said sorry, and you said, no no, if anything you wish I'd posted more, so that you know what I'm up to. You told me how you recently broke up with someone, and that you interviewed for a job you really want but because of the outbreak, didn't get it. I told you how similar both situations are - I just lost someone and I almost got a job that I wanted but didn't go through because of the pandemic. We talked a little about how you used a fucking Blackberry back in year 2018 -- when iPhone X was already everywhere in Chicago. You were surprised I remember you still used a Blackberry. 

A long term memory is both the best and worst thing about me.

A whole week went by, and I posted again. This time half of my face, and my oldest friends' pictures from our virtual catch up meeting that day. You simply said "Awww" because you thought it was a cute picture. I joked that I know I'm so cute, to which you said, "You are also sweet."

Then there it goes.

I told you that I thought I was being rude, which you didn't think I was. I joked that I am usually very nice that people fell in love with me after the first date. You said "Love is a big word..." and then asked me to refresh your memory of our time together. What I did that was rude. You thought I was hospitable if anything, because I let you stay and sleep at my place. You didn't think I was rude at all, but I was really sweet.

I said it was just the overall interaction. I believe that me reactions were always less than unsavory. I retold the story of the next morning when we went for Yolk, a breakfast place just outside of my building, and even though I KNEW it wasn't a good place (I should've taken you to Wildberry, but that's where I met him and I just couldn't make the same memory of two remarkable people. That would ruin the entire story) I still took you there and I even confessed it there and you said, "Why are you like this?" while looking at me and shaking your head. I told you I felt bad, but... I didn't know you anyway. So why bother.

"If we are being honest now... I really liked spending time with you. I don't know, I just felt you are a sweet person to be hanging out with. Not sure if you felt the same way. The sex sucked though, to be honest."

I laughed. Harder than I have laughed in this trying time we also call year 2020. 

"I honestly kinda felt you were an asshole but whatever. Yeah the sex sucked... But I also never had a guy told me sex with me sucked before, so thanks! This is another first in my life! Haha!"

"You felt I was an ashole? No way. That's bad of me, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It wasn't your fault or anything. Like, I don't know. We didn't have condoms at first and stuff like that. And the next day I was exhausted. Listen, no joke. If you were in the US, I would totally want to date you. I really liked you. But now obviously you are at the other side of the world. So we can just be friends."

I recalled the memories of why I thought I was being rude the whole day to you, and you just told me to stop overthinking about it. I told you that I felt like you were a lot like me, and I hated to meet myself.

You told me that you just simply thought I didn't want to spend time together. You thought it was because I didn't like you as much, and then you thought maybe I was a bit conservative, or worried about the bar exam... You weren't sure, but you felt that I was not into you as much. "But thanks for saying you hated meeting me. It's okay, you can be honest. It is not likely we will meet again anyways. But I don't think we are similar. In some ways, yes. But you're not rude. You're just blunt."

I tried to explain that I hated it because from the way you talk, you sounded a lot like me, and I just hated to meet that bitch in person. But that was it. I don't hate you anymore. If anything, I added you on Snapchat first. I do think that you'd make a good friend. 

I didn't know I could tell you all of this. I just didn't. Being honest about it was honestly very liberating, strangely.

Somehow, you keep on saying, "Seriously though, no pressure if you don't want to talk anymore. That's cool. But I feel weird now that I said I would date you, but you said you wouldn't date me. Awkwarddddd."

I laughed. Again. The hardest I could remember in 2020.

I told you that's not what I was saying. I still wanna talk. I probably would say yes to date you if you live nearby, but you never were. Even when I was in Chicago, you were not nearby, and I don't do well in distance. I had to mention two cases of my failure with distance (that is not so painful anymore now suddenly). And if you weren't so remarkable honestly I wouldn't remember anything about that day anyway, so you're actually quiet something for me.

You feel flattered, and the mentioned that you've dated a few girls but things didn't work out. Mentioned again how it was just a couple of weeks ago that you broke up, and that long distance aren't practical. "Cool cool. We are friends forever!"

I mentioned my own version of the break up, which also happened 2 weeks ago. You asked me what happened, I explained, and you said that was a stupid excuse to break up. I said it didn't feel like a break up, there was no relationship there, but just the end of an era. You told me to be careful of any infection, and suddenly you said, "I don't know, [back then] I felt you were clean and also you were a good kisser so I couldn't resist the temptation. But I really try not to sleep around with girls until I know them for a while."

I laughed. Again and again. 

"Yeah I remember that kiss. Really polite of you to ask 'Can I at least kiss you now?'"

You laughed, "You disturbingly remember a lot of details."

"I know right. And I was drunk too."

"It was an amazing kiss, honestly. You are good."

"Told you that night was quiet remarkable."

"I don't think I'll ever forget it either." Somehow I'm imagining that you're smiling while typing this.

Then you told me you've had so many scares the next day in the morning when you sleep with girls you just met, but you honestly weren't worried about me because you felt I was smart and clean. "So I didn't panic that time and ran to get tested."

Before you go, you told me what you always told me, "Ahh, I can talk to you forever, but I'm 11 hours behind you now and it is past midnight, so..."

"Yeah. Good night."

I don't know if I could ever tell you the truth behind it all. The big part of why you were so remarkable - why the 24 hours felt so different. I don't know if I would ever be able to muster up the courage to tell you, because - what difference would that make?