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a tale of two singles.

14 Mar

It happens that these two singletons are both the only children in their respective families.

It happens that both of them, in their own different timings, miraculously decided to touch the keypads on their cellphones, to be connected to my mobile number, and the chats could not be more different from one another.

It happened not a long time ago, in one of the nights where I could not be more thankful of any companion, yet the memories of them could go as far as my existence began to, gramatically shameful, exist.


Especially with the first one, my one old friend who came to prominence ever since my tender youth of teen life started.
He is the kind of guy you could envy a lot. Charming, good-looking, well-mannered, acutely active listener, any mothers would surely push their daughters to poison him to unconscious sleep, so that he can father many children later. Yes, I am influenced by those highly imaginative soap operas, something that I used to watch together with his mum whenever we had to wait for him while he had to give his girlfriend a ride home.
Make that ex-girlfriend though.

Three years apart, three changes of email addresses, three times of many unfortunate events both of us failed to witness, three hundreds of messages in both online messenger services and cellphones which only consisted of an icon or simple words such as “I am stressed out”, we will finally meet again.

I don’t want to think how it is going to be, nor I don’t wanna drown myself in mindless panic of what-should-I-wear madness. Whatever happens, a rare moment of finding something in common rose that night.

People change, and for once, we do.

Within a short time, the line worked like a mantra spoken over and over again, and you don’t keep a mantra in your memory. You say it out loud, you blurt it out if you have a tendency to be repetitive, and the best thing is to keep telling it to yourself.

People change. So do I.

And that’s exactly what I am going to tell him.

Just like how I am going to tell to my second single friend on the spotlight here, one special guy who deserves royal treatment, as credited to his penchant for what I always yearn for in life.

To love, and be loved.


The passion for such an affectionate activity is what led him in living a courageous life I wouldn’t think of in the first place. Imagine sacrificing yourself to worthless someone for a great deal of your life and despite the harsh, painful and aching treatment in return, you bravely walk away with a smile, and even a wider smile to embrace the uncertainty ahead.
Perhaps, what he faced is nothing compared to what I did to him.
Who would’ve thought that I could take a tourist to his native country’s embassy?
Yet, he gladly accepted that while I was busy with some vanity project in the embassy, making him the very first friend-as-a-tourist that I brought to, again, his native country’s embassy. A very important tourism object, indeed.

The tale could go on and on, but as each day is limited to 24 hours, it has to stop somewhere, at a certain point that may not satisfy both, or at least, one of us.

But despite the change, the tale would be marked with another chapters ahead, and to have an endless tale that works way much better than those choose-your-own-adventure books is a gift I wouldn’t trade with any.

And I am thankful for that.

(actually, if any of them would really care about me, they should know that I am in a very desperate need of furniture for my new flat, shouldn’t they?)

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Posted by on 03/14/2006 in English, Personal

 

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