Connecting with the past

It was a very last minute meeting, nothing calculated, nothing planned. The thought of writing to him just came to my mind the night before, and I wasn't really expecting a response, especially to a sudden proposal to meet. But respond he did, and we met. On Sinterklaas (St Nicholas Day), the day, of all days, on which the wishes and dreams of children are supposed to be fulfilled. Pure coincidence, perhaps.

It's been about four years since we last met. And I proposed to meet at the same place where we first met on a date, outside the public library. At the agreed time, as I walked toward the building, I saw him lean against the wall lost in his book.

Quietly I called his name, and he looked up. I smiled.

Beforehand I had contemplated a bit on how to greet him. What is the most appropriate way to greet someone you met on two dates four years ago and then disappeared from your life until four years later you suddenly receive a mail from  telling you for such a long time you have been on his mind? Do you do the traditional three kisses on the cheeks? I don't know why that seemed like a bizarre choice. Do I give him a handshake? It would have felt too formal, like a business meeting. And I think we are beyond that. So I gave him a hug. A big hug, and said in his ear it's been so long already. Nothing could go or be wrong  with a hug. At least in my mind...

It was a little awkward at first, knowing what to say, getting used to one another again after all this time. For me, the initial awkwardness came from, I guess,  trying to figure out who this person is and how he figures in my life. Reading his email, in which be confessed to thinking about me even after all this time, made me feel flattered, but at the same time scared. And a few weeks ago, I discovered that he began a blog, in which he wrote some entries about me, and how I touch(ed) and inspire(d) him.

It's not (I don't think) that he's been lying awake at night and hopelessly dreaming of what could have been between us had I not moved away months after we met. It's just that all these years, I didn't have a clue that our two dates left such a deep impression on him, and I felt responsible. Did I consciously go out with him and then let things just fade away because he wasn't interesting? No, it wasn't that. I simply had too much going on in my life, simply had too much to deal with, at the time we met that he, and whatever could have been between us, was pushed to the background.

He says he's grateful I was his first date. Not that we had anything intimate or physical, but at the very least just meeting me and getting to know (what little of) me sort of set the bar for the kind of person he'd like to find and be with. And for me... Who was he for me? I've been trying to figure that out since he wrote to me. It's not that I don't have any feelings toward him. There's something there, just how deep or how strong I'm not sure. Hard as it sounds, I really just don't remember how I felt back then.

The few hours we sat down and caught up on the missing days of our lives over the past few years went by so quickly. We spoke about changes in our lives, what we've been up to. And very quickly, it began to feel as if I was meeting an old friend and having a heart to heart talk. We spoke about relationships, exs, plans and hopes. And despite the hiatus of some four years, it felt like I was getting to know a good friend.

At one point, I  steered the conversation to our first dates. Was it appropriate? I don't know. But at least for me, it felt like it was a topic we needed to touch upon to get rid of any lingering feelings and awkwardness.

 As he and I spoke about our feelings and what our first meetings meant to one another, the bits and pieces began to be put together. And he grew on me again. There before me was a guy, smart, good-looking, well-spoken and reflective, with whom I know I could have something. But alas, fate and life did not grant us the time or opportunity.

What that would develop into, how long that would have lasted,  I don't know. But there was, and in ways, there still is, potential. It felt disappointing to realise that, for I know two days from now I'll be gone, and who knows when I'll see him again (though I did repeatedly invite him to visit me, and he too invited me to visit him in the city he'll be moving to...). Two days from now, whatever feelings that have been rekindled, even if they are faint and uncertain, will most likely fade again as he and I go back to separate our lives.

 It was disappointing because the  distance and barriers between us are just too great (besides, he probably does not feel the same way I feel...). But our meeting also  gave me a sense of hope. Hope, especially after all the complications with my ex and being left to feel abandoned and lingering in the background as he pursues a new relationship, that I can feel again, that I can meet someone and feel like I can move on. If my ex can apparently move on so quickly, then why can't I? Why do I feel like I owe my ex anything, when he is already out there pursuing (or at least trying to pursue) his own happiness? I can do the same, I want to do the same.

Meeting this guy from four years ago reassured me that I deserve something beautiful. I deserve to be with someone who can be with me fully, and not make me feel o need to compete for and win his love and attention. I do not need to always feel like the victim or feel worthless because my ex left me to go after someone else. I am master over my own happiness and the life I choose I lead.

We parted company, and he was a bit quiet, I was a bit quiet. How will this all end, I found myself asking. What was going on in his mind, I do not know, perhaps will never know.

 Again, I gave him a hug, a tight and long one, the way I know how. He went his way, I went mine. For a moment, I stood and watched him cycle away. He probably had no idea...

Quietly, as his figure grew smaller and smaller, I wished him well, wished him happiness and peace. And the distance between us began to grow and grow again.

Letter from the past

I met him about four years ago. We had a couple of email exchanges after he responded to an ad I placed online. And one night we decided to finally meet.

It was exciting, as all dates are, and a bit scary too, as all dates can be. I remember spending hours writing to him and checking my inbox every so often over the next days hoping he had written back, wondering what clever or funny response he would have to my emails. And when he did, I'd read with zeal the email and look for meaning behind the words, look for some kind of connection or understanding  that was perhaps unsaid, but revealed there were mutual good feelings.  I enjoyed our political discussions, and enjoyed getting to know one another, or at least getting to know one another through the words we chose to write.

We finally met, for a dinner and a documentary. One about genocide, admittedly not the most cheerful or romantic. But even so, I was first and foremost, as I am now, looking for a friend, someone to connect with, someone to do things with. If something should come out of the meeting, a deeper connection of some sort, then great. In fact, i longed for a deeper connection, I longed for a relationship, as much back then as now. If not, then at least for a couple of hours I was not by my self.

I enjoyed his company, but we parted soon after the movie ended. I forget how we said goodbye, was it with a kiss on the cheeks or a handshake? Was it with a hug, or did i just turn around and leave? I remember cycling home at night feeling light, feeling like there was something there, and wondering whether I'd hear from him again...

Was i waiting for him to write, perhaps fearing I would come on too strong and perhaps fearing rejection if I made the first move. And perhaps he felt and feared the sane. A month or so went by without any news, and then he finally broke the silence in writing to me. I think (and he confirmed recently) we met a second time, but the memories of that second meeting escapes me.

How much did I really know about him from the emails we exchanged, and how much did he know about me from the brief hours we spent together over two evenings? I didn't even know his full name, nor did I know how old he was. What would become of us? What would have happened or developed? With time, we faded from one another's lives and memories.

 Or at least he from mine. It was a tumultuous period. Life took over, and the death of my dad consumed my mind for some time after we reconnected in early 2008. I remember he was very supportive and wrote me a comforting email to express his condolences. But between mourning, finishing off my job, rounding up my (then) masters thesis, and finalising my my big move to Canada, we lost contact...

To my surprise, he wrote to me again a month or so ago. I may have forgotten his name, but he certainly did not forget me, he said. And for the last few years I entered his thoughts from time to time, for somehow, for better or worse, I left a deep impression on him.

He wrote wanting some closure, asking what it was we were doing at the doing, if anything. Perhaps we were both so young and naive we didn't know what we wanted, or, if we did, we didn't know what to do to get what we wanted. And realistically, with me leaving the country so often at the time, and ultimately moving to Canada, little would have happened...

Why did I contact him in the first place? Did I do that, back in November 2007, even though I had plans to move away? I don't quite remember  the chronological of it all, and what I wanted from meeting someone... Was it a temporary something to fill the void that was inside of me, or was it searching for something, someone to make me stay ?

Point is, I met someone, and I left an impression on his life I never intended to, I never imagined possible. Not that he is completely love stricken and forever relplaying the brief moments we had together (I don't think...). But it does make me question whether there is something wrong with me that I seem to be oblivious to the deep impact I seem to have on people. Where does this effect come from? How does a person, even after four years, still remember someone he barely even knows and barely had the chance to get to know better? And not just him, but also my ex, who has told me again and again how he cannot imagine a life without me (in whatever capacity) in it.

The date I had four years ago wrote me he has rarely met as kind-hearted  a person as me, and that, in a way, I helped shape what it is he is looking for in a partner, in a relationship. I am flattered, and in a way have confidence again that however alone I may be, especially after my last relationship so abruptly ad cruelly broke down, there may be hope yet...

It is hard to meet people in this world, but somehow i must keep on reminding myself there are people out there who, even with the briefest of encounters, even with the shortest period of interaction, will, for one reason or another, like me for who I am. I rarely think this way or tell myself this, however alone I maybe, however lonely I may be feeling, there is someone out there for me, waiting for me.