In between udon, tea and brulee

Also about what happened before and after

A story I think best fits with Sarah and Phil’s “When Love Arrives” so I added snippets of the poem along the way. If you haven’t checked out Sarah and Phil’s “When Love Arrives”, go check it out now!

Even though I hadn’t met Love yet, if Love had wandered into my homeroom I would have recognized him at first glance

The last time we met you said you wanted to see me again, so you came back in less than a week. I wanted to take you up on your birthday promo offer because I found it such a weird coincidence that the first time we finally met was on your birthday and you thought it was a good decision to share it with me.

At that time, I was someone whom you haven’t met but I guess you thought you knew me quite a bit and that I was someone you felt safe enough to be around, based on our conversations online and insights from our mutuals. At least, I thought of you this way.

So less than a week later, you came down to meet me for sushi. We made arrangements and I called you as you arrived to come pick you up. I called and heard your voice over the phone for the first time. Wow this kid is cheery, I thought to myself. How could you when I had butterflies and my heart pounding? My eyes even twinkled and I hadn’t even picked you up yet.

To be frank, I was already thinking of an exit strategy. What was I going to talk to you about? What if it will be awkward and we run out of things to discuss? I felt safe thinking we’d probably just call it a day after 2–3 hours.

And then I saw you and we talked. A lot, it turned out, and this is what I felt.

But when Love finally showed up…

I just wanted to get this out there because it was quite a nice feeling to have.

It was a first to be able to talk to someone relatively new for more than 6 hours straight and laugh most of the time till our (or perhaps mine only, I don’t know) cheeks hurt. As the café became quite empty, full, empty and full again, it really didn’t matter because it felt like we were the only two people in the room.

But we found a park bench that fit us perfectly.
We found jokes that make us laugh.

We were sitting at this high seat table where the spotlight shone on our area, leaving other seats quite dark. That said, the other tables around us could see us much more clearly than we could see them. At many points in our perhaps 3–4 hour conversation, I was quite embarrassed to think that people could see the glisten in my eyes light up when I was talking to you, that the way we talked and laughed and how I looked at you made people think we oblivious to the fact that we were in a busy café. That I was giving myself away, that my feelings were getting the better of my expressions.

Just like my tea, our conversation was light. You did say, in the middle of our hours-long chat, that this was the longest time you’d ever spent talking to someone. We continued to talk and laugh for another 1,5 hours after that I think.

At one point you laughed so hard you stood up and twirled in laughter. From then on, I have always loved your laughs. That day you shared your stories and made me feel safe to share mine. Your responses to my stories made me laugh and I felt reassured that you got me. That we got this.

After half a day of talking and laughing, we didn’t have that sushi at the end. Instead, we hopped from udon, to doughnuts and tea, to the brulee box I got you as a belated birthday gift. I liked that brulee so I thought you would too.

Night came and you walked me back to the parking lot. That was awkward but I appreciated the effort. The effort being the whole shebang of coming down here and sharing laughs and awkward moments with me.

You asked me to text you when I got home.

I came home and my tummy was full, my cheeks sore, and my heart warm.

Maybe Love stays. Maybe Love can’t. Maybe Love shouldn’t. Love arrives exactly when Love is supposed to and Love leaves exactly when Love must.

From our first meeting, I quickly realized that our common denominator was food in more ways than one. A beautiful and powerful thing, food is, how it can both gather and pull people apart. From the effort to bring food to the table to the conversations held in presence of them, it sparks energy and life as it does tears and bitterness.

But we are what we eat and that is our choice.

Perhaps you made yours. Perhaps I made mine. Or perhaps we never had a choice to begin with because everything has already been chosen for us somehow. But I’m thankful for the stories nonetheless.

Turn off the music. Listen to the quiet.
Whisper, “Thank you for stopping by.”