It was an unofficial competition for the top 8 bachelors in Singapore. He was on the list because of his dashing good looks, looming height (all of 1.85m) and because he was one of the top students at NUS Engineering.
Side-note, I used to really adore tall men. Actually I still do but Gabriel has banned me from saying it. Progressively from Secondary 3 till up to I met Gabriel, the men I dated were always 1.7m, 1.75m, 1.8m, 1.85m. All the while I was shrinking from 1.46m to 1.45m. OH WELL WE WILL DATE WHAT WE CAN'T BE.
Anyway, for all that he could've been, he was ruined inside from a mother who spent the past 13 years till date not speaking to him after something he did as a child and a father that was never around. He was weak-willed and everything he did was prone to addiction. I saw myself in him.
Except without the great height and the shiny NUS degree but hey pretty close.
Because of his penchant for movies with haunting dialogues, we ended up watching Moonrise Kingdom one day. He paused the movie when he heard my dad coming and went to greet him. And as I watched him go, I realized I was doing the right things, but with the wrong man.
He made me miss my older man.
My older man was much like him. With eyes set to kill and a smile that could cut a small town's electricity, my older man was a visual masterpiece. He shared my current tastes in raging rock and devoured movies that made him think. He played in a band and was a freelance sound-man. I thought he was the single, most perfected piece of artifact I could ever own.
He was protective to a fault with me, guarding me zealously from all the pain the world tried to give me. He had a reservoir of love within him that he dedicated all to me, till one day, my lack of reciprocating finally snapped him and made him leave.
And so when I concluded things with NUS, I was happy I could be miserable in peace again over the man I lost. Despite everything that transpired, I was glad he was happier now without me. I should've woken up sooner. But I didn't. And it led to my own downfall.
I thought I'd be unhappy forever.
I wrote about dying daily.
Three years ago, today:
It is 3am
And the world is a lot smaller
You are an invisible wall away
Distance is a graspable matter
Some nights it feels like this
My heart aches and clutches at itself
Some nights it feels like this
I no longer need any help
Some nights it feels like this
Clawing at my stretched sanity
Some nights it feels like this
A numbness from now to eternity
I should do something
I should try everything
I should run with fear in my heart
Sink my fingers into your back
Tell you I've been torn apart
Oh this misery it consumes me
You ravage my mind like silk on sheets
What you do to me
A marksman with a perfected hit
But what do you know
You think I'm a lost cause
And what do I know
Perhaps I am a worthy loss
Tonight.
The heart is weak
And the mind is broken
Happy thoughts for you, sad days for me
Never truer have spoken
Hold on.
"I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech.
And you will be mine."
You think you're romantic
You think your misery will meet salvation
You think causing yourself this daily grief will get you somewhere
You think you can fight the universe
You disallow yourself to be happy
You push away people who can heal you
You root yourself to the ground not moving on
All these and more, what for Nicole
I would hate to lose you.
If you had told me then that I would eventually meet somebody that could push the man I lost out of my head and instead, hold his own in my ravaged mind and heart, I would've called you a lousy cunt and if I was as daily-drunk as I was back then, I might've tried to slap you.
If you had told me that one day, the man I love is not the tall Adonises I had but instead a short, stocky version of the aforementioned Greek god, I would've called you a lousy cunt again for trying to deter me in my pursuit to purify my gene pool, which I've ruined with my short woman genes.
If you had told me that one day I would be happy again, I would've smiled sadly and said I forgot what that felt, and I might try to convince you to buy some of the guilt and misery I've been carrying around everyday at that point.
If you had told me that one day, the consistent Constantine name I gave all my other-half Sims 2 lover in all the families I created since 2010 (after reading Sidney Sheldon's Memories of Midnight) would finally come to me, wrapped in a sailor's ribbon, I would've curled my lip in curiosity.
I would ask you more about him.
I would ask you what he loves and how he loves.
I would ask you what makes him laugh and what makes him cry.
And you could smile and say, "You."
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