These are a few of my favourite things.

Today, my colleague caught me off-guard by suddenly asking about X. I was surprised because this group of colleagues are unlike my previous batch whom are extremely nosy and gossipy. Or maybe they cannot be bothered lol. Can’t remember how this topic came about. All I know is that we were waiting for one more so that we could go buy bubble tea together.

I was half taken aback and half impressed by her questions because they are not the usual what does he do?, no, really what’s his real job?, how does he support himself? kind of questions. Then she asked, “There must be a reason why you like him so much. What is the sweetest or most memorable thing he has done for you?”. And I was struck dumb. I couldn’t answer.

It’s not like he’s supposed to do anything for me in the first place, but while I was thinking of which incident to bring up, I realised that there were too many. You should know by now I’m not a fan of fancy schmancy, tell-the-world gestures and how it’s the little things that kill me.

So. Which is my favourite thus far? Was it the time he went out of his way to comfort, ask his doctor friend for help, made me healthy meals in bulk during my cancer scare? Or maybe how he hauled my 21kg luggage through Paris for an hour without a word of complaint? Perhaps it’s the times he was there for four hours on the phone, talking about everything and nothing, or just cheering me up while I sobbed on the line? Or it could very well be all those times he cooked me my favourite food?

I really don’t know. If I didn’t stop myself right there, I could probably go on and on and list down every single little thing he has done till it fills the surface of The Great Wall of China completely six times over.

I have mixed emotions about this. I have had soooo many wonderful memories with him (and we’re not even banging the brains out of one another!) that brings a smile to my out-of-control face but yet he brings me grief too. Grief at his queer unique personality, my frustrations at this hot and cold game as well as all the other times I whined, emo-ed and lamented about him in my posts.

He may not be Romeo but at least he’s also not The Mother of All Douchebags either. And even though I don’t think I’m in the position to say this, I’m very very proud of him. He probably doesn’t know (because I joke about it all the time) and doesn’t have to, but I’m actually his biggest fan, cheerleader, critic and Lionel Ritchie-ish Hello admirer (not secret because who else doesn’t know yet hurhur) rolled into one.

And I don’t think I answered my colleague either. Because that bubble tea took precedence. At least I’m not that hopeless after all.

xoxoxoxo.

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