At first, I can’t
decide if I wanted to publish this post. I have been keeping this to myself for
quite a few years. When writing this post, telling one story might reveal
another. But in the end, I decided to be professional and publish this post. This
is a story of forbidden love. I won’t use his real name here, so I’ll change it
to Mr First Love.
Ever since I went to
school in KK, I learnt from my friends that first loves aren’t necessarily your
first boyfriend. That’s true though. I met Mr First Love at his workplace.
Nineteen years my senior, he’s not my first boyfriend, but he was never my
boyfriend either. He’s just someone who’s so dear to me. Who would have thought
that I would fall for him so much when I first met him?
I have spent so much of
my time after school with Mr First Love. When I don’t feel like going to
school, I went and hang out with him, coming home in late afternoon. Even when
I was sick with menstrual cramps, I’d hold the pain in and ride the stuffy bus
to his workplace. We would just talk and talk endlessly.
It seemed like there’s
an unspoken agreement that we’ll only be each other’s best friends and not
more. So we talked about the two women he dated, about the boys I liked but
didn’t like me back; we talked about his workplace and I talked about my
school; we talked about our families and our homes. When I’m in doubt, I’d ask
him for advice; we exchange jokes; we exchange experience; he told me such
amusing stories of the two women he dated. I really enjoyed our time together.
But then during those
times together, I fell in love.
I didn’t tell him. I
didn’t tell anyone. He’s the only person I loved who I kept in secret. I want
to keep him and all my feelings for him all to myself.
Mr First Love occupied
my mind. When I’m in class, when I eat, when I drink, before I went to sleep
and when I wake up. It was safe to say that in every breath I breathe, he was
always in my mind. I can’t help but wonder if he thought of me the same way as
well. I can’t help but wonder if he could possibly fell in love with me as I
had fall in love with him.
I guess the
relationship between us was too casual. One day Mr First Love revealed to me,
through a picture he set as wallpaper in his phone, he’s dating another woman.
That takes the count of the women he dated to – three? I got jealous. I was
right there, in front of him, for almost a year. Yet he didn’t date me. I
swallow my envy and asked him how he got to know her? He tells me everything
without sparing any details aside. Once or twice, he let slip of how in some
ways I am better than her. That made me felt good. I told him I didn’t believe
him, but in the frown I displayed, there’s a relief knowing how he thought of
me.
I asked Mr First Love
why he didn’t pick me to be his girlfriend. I gave him a look of mock jealousy,
when what I truly want is to show him how jealous I truly feel. He told me that
he did want me. But he cared about me too much. He wanted to protect me from
anyone who wants to hurt me should they find out I’m in a relationship with him.
Looking back at the time now, I realised that he also meant he can’t trust
himself not to hurt me as well. We can’t be in a relationship together because
he’s such a player of women’s heart that he might one day inevitably hurt me.
That’s when I realised he
had feelings for me too.
One day, I got myself a
boyfriend. Then I stopped being friends with Mr First Love. He called me and
texted me a few times, probably because he missed me, but I didn’t answer or
reply. When we met face to face at his workplace, he gave me a mild look of
resentment and accuses me of forgetting him now that I had a boyfriend. But
that’s not the case. I just can’t be around him, feeling what I felt. He both
made and breaks my heart. Soon, he stopped calling. Soon, he stopped texting.
There were times, over
the years after that, where I thought about Mr First Love, wondering how he’s
doing. For the past months so far, I have been missing him so much. My random
scribbling had been about him, my daydream always had him in the background.
Maybe because our friendship ended so abruptly, we haven’t had any closure.
I made a promise that
I’d tell Mr First Love one day. Writing about this gave me a sense of relief.
As if a weight had been lifted off my shoulder, I felt a little better now. One
day, I’ll meet him, just me and him alone to talk about what happened in the
past. We both deserve a better closure than we had all those years ago.
(Dear Mr First Love, Happy birthday)
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