You know those people that manage to be friends with their ex(es)? Some even claimed to be best friends with them. Well, I don’t belong to those people.
I’ve mentioned here how even though I’m no longer in regular contact, I do sort of keep up with them via the grapevine and what not. For the most part, they seem to be doing just fine and I’m happy they are happy. I wish them all the best.
But you know, memory is a curious thing. Like most people, I put music as background sound while working – it helps me concentrate – and sometimes my playlist would choose something that would remind me of them. Like right now.
I guess it’s the combination of the song and the current time that stops me at my tracks. It is the holy month of Ramadhan and suddenly I just remember how he used to remind me to pray on time. I think he was the first friend who ever did that for me and it sticks.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I was hanging out with the bad crowd and he was the saviour. Oh no, my youth is not that dramatic. But back then, I wasn’t very conscious about religion. It’s there, it’s part of my make up but I didn’t really think about it that much. He was the first friend who nudged me about that. At school or during our lengthy phone calls, he’d remind me if it was praying time and would stop the call to do so. He’d call me right back and resume the conversation 😉
He was a very kind boy and I heard he grew to be a kind man too. We parted mostly due to distance and age. We were still in our teens, living in different countries, definitely we were not thinking about marriage anytime soon so we didn’t fight for it. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t broken hearted when it happened. We both knew it wasn’t realistic to keep it going but wasn’t quite ready to call it quits either.
It’s not like I had lines of other boys waiting to go out with me. In fact I didn’t really date anyone at all after him. But after we part oceans, it just seems strange to call someone your boyfriend and not there to prove it. We did tried, we send letters and meet up during the holiday. The letters were not frequent to begin with, but I had look forward to it, gladly penned replies. Somehow, “…it just got colder…” as he puts it (don’t ask how I remember that particular line from his final letter. I just did) It just got strange…
Somewhere deep inside I mourned him though it was a mutual decision. Thankfully there was an avalanche of school work, a flurry of activities to keep me going, and of course, new land to explore. Such was the joy of being an expat brat. Eventually the pain ceased. Life continues.
I sometimes wonder what would happen had we stayed in touch. Would we get back together? Was he the one that got away?
As it turned out, he is not. Oh he turned out just fine, he was a good catch, good husband material, just not mine. People change as they grow. That’s what happened to us I think. We change. We didn’t became bad people, we just grew up.
He sorta became the benchmark of the guys that came after him. Guys that are kind, smart, intelligent, cute, and religious. So I am glad I met him because I knew for sure that guys with that kind of criteria exist.
So no, he’s not the one that got away. Because the one that is for me? Now him I don’t let go. Nor he me 🙂