I saw someone who looked like you when I was out shopping the other day. I knew it couldn’t have been you; You’re thousands of miles away across the bloody Pacific for one thing, and he didn’t even exactly look like you in the first place. Not that I got a good look at his face – I only had a glimpse of the guy walking down the mall one floor down while I was on the escalator. It was just something about his height, his hair, his gait, and the way he was slightly leaning towards his girl with his head cocked a little that reminded me of you. And damn, it took my breath away.

Funny how that happens. We only sort of “dated” on and off for a few months before I left the country following an unexpected turn of events. Can’t say it was a hard breakup for either of us. The first time we went out, everything went so well it seemed too good to be true. Guess it was. Boy, we turned out to have a real knack of pissing each other off. But I didn’t write you off because (a) I just don’t do that to people unless they’re criminally insane, and (b) I kept thinking that you couldn’t possibly as stupid and immature as your words and behavior suggested.

Oh, and also, you were hot. Not in the Bay Watch fashion exactly (I’m dating myself here), but in a deeper, more moving way. Even though you mostly dressed like you’ve just had a makeover at Goodwill (this, I actually liked), there was elegance in your posture and movements. I felt that way even when you were worn out after a long day and dragging your feet to flop down onto the couch. When you were happy, it was as though life itself was radiating from your whole body, warming me also with its glow. And those eyes of yours – they’re truly the only pair of blue eyes I ever adored. I would have been content just looking into those eyes for hours on end if you ever let me. For the first time, I understood and appreciated the power of beauty in wanting to be with someone. Not to show off to others but because it moves you in the way watching a beautiful sunset moves you. You’d never know how it touched my heart to watch you asleep on my couch, feeling as though I was watching youth itself asleep on a summer afternoon, and how I breathed carefully and quietly so as not to disturb such entrancing moments.

Where was I – I got sidetracked rambling on about your beauty – but yeah, personality-wise, we were a terrible match despite the physical attraction and many shared interests. You were a clinically-selfish, mind-bogglingly close-minded, wannabe-badass. I say this knowing you probably had a similar conclusion about me. I know I was a jerk myself plenty of times. Like I said, we really had a knack of bringing out each other’s inner jerk. So it seemed natural for us to just part our ways upon my moving without drama or even a discussion. ‘Thanks for the fun, good luck with your life,’ you know? True, I still think about you a lot, but that’s because I have too much time to sit on my hands now. True, I still indulge in fantasizing about our improbable life together but that’s a mental equivalence of twiddling my thumbs (and even in my fantasies, we argue and break up eventually!). We never had a real relationship. We never shared emotional intimacy. We didn’t even like each other much.

But then that happened: some guy who vaguely looked like you from a distance took my breath away, stopping my heart almost. Funny how that happens. Isn’t it funny how that happens…