Ever since you went out of my list, the option of having you back was null. My deepest thoughts would probably never transpire in this lifetime. But the truth is, I faithfully harbour that tiny little speck of hope that we’ll bump into one another some day.
“
May 2007 they first spoke. She was foreign on his contact list. He didn’t take close scrutiny at her address, but to anyone else he’d do as well, he clicked on her nick and said “hi, stranger.”
She insisted that it was him who added her into his list. He was obstinate, and rebutted that she was first. Those were their first days of friendship.
Almost everyday, he clicked on her. It was like bee to honey, and he never relented in trying to make her special. But she never initiated chats. Why? Because it was just not her. He teased her for being stuck-up. She gave in for a while, just for that little while.
Months passed. They shared, they talked, they thought. Rollercoasters of emotions they rode through. Videos and songs they exchanged, enough to set up a torrent network. The pluses and minuses they saw in one other. He wanted nobody to steal time away from him.
They spoke about trust, taking each of the two sides – 100% lies, or 100% the truth. “You see, there’s no point in telling the truth because we probably wouldn’t find out anyway.” “Well, yet there’s no point in telling lies because we probably, too, won’t know at all isn’t it?” On that very day, they assured each other that they exchanges were genuine.
He asked her out for the first time. She had cold feet. He thought he could understand why. The second time she said no, she spun tales about how she behaves and whipped up stories about her warped personality. He didn’t buy them. She were probably trying not to make him feel bad. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve already known each other for…like how long.”
101 times later, she was already so embarassed to reject yet again. He didn’t think he’d stop trying, hoping you’ll give in if he persevered, showing his sincerity. But she didn’t think much into it. “Leave everything to fate,” was her reply.
All guys are the same, she said. They all go out looking for fun and one-night-stands. Superficial creatures, she felt. Desperado – the word she didn’t use. It’s just yet another phase of life. Not all guys are like that, he retorted. Yeah, was her reply. Yeah, that was the only reply.
He didn’t know if this qualified as love. But in this unrealistic setting when everything was just so surreal that he couldn’t anticipate, with the next move on the chessboard that’ll be one that would probably bring another twist to the story with an entirely dissimilar resolution, it came as a sudden realisation that everything should jolly well be restricted to the fantasy world where mickey mouse and chug chug Thomas reign.
Maybe they wouldn’t have chemistry if they meet up. Maybe her image of the perfect gentleman would come smashing down from ten thousand feet high if their eyes locked. Maybe that was why she didn’t want to meet. Ya, leave it to fate, she said. Fine, one in a million chance, he said.
One click of the mouse he took her off his list. The harsh realities of the world she’d face. He tried, he felt, he thought. Down in memory lane she went. One less friend in his life he didn’t care.
“
Actually he still does.