ME
You know what’s a perfect date? It’s when you hate what I’m wearing. Tattered short shorts, oldest shirt I can find, rubber slippers, messy hair and all. We go someplace where people usually dress up with cameras on their neck. I’ll drive our twenty-year-old car, aircon broken, windows down, near empty fuel. We’ll sing whatever’s on the radio, and light up every 25 kilometers. We’ll spend the afternoon sharing a huge frappe, discussing something trivial like how islands form, component of plate tectonics, to what I recently came across from work (i.e. do you know it’s the male sea horse that gets pregnant? Does that make them more nurturing than their female counterpart? If RH Bill were pushed in the underwater Republic of Hippocampus, would they vote for it?).
You know what’s a perfect date? It’s when you hate what I’m wearing. Tattered short shorts, oldest shirt I can find, rubber slippers, messy hair and all. We go someplace where people usually dress up with cameras on their neck. I’ll drive our twenty-year-old car, aircon broken, windows down, near empty fuel. We’ll sing whatever’s on the radio, and light up every 25 kilometers. We’ll spend the afternoon sharing a huge frappe, discussing something trivial like how islands form, component of plate tectonics, to what I recently came across from work (i.e. do you know it’s the male sea horse that gets pregnant? Does that make them more nurturing than their female counterpart? If RH Bill were pushed in the underwater Republic of Hippocampus, would they vote for it?).
Smoke. Talk. Smoke. Talk. Argue. Laugh. Chill. No need for anything pricy. No roles to fill. Just us, talking like great friends, because we are. `
US
My ideal date is not what we usually have. Regular dates often start with an argument over where and what to eat. I like pasta, you want rice. I’m craving for pizza, you had chicken in your mind. There are times when I’m forced to have dinner even if I’m on a diet simply because you wouldn’t eat if I don’t and I can tell you’re hungry. So I nobly throw my conviction to lose pounds out of the window for you to have the satisfaction of sharing your experience of chewing and swallowing.
We’ll have desert somewhere and smoke, I’ll tell you about random things, and you’ll try to listen, then space out every 5 minutes. I’ll get bored myself (hello?), remember I’m pissed about dinner and ask to go home.
YOU
Happy 22nd Birthday. Because it’s your day, let’s have your kind of date. That means buffet right?
Happy 22nd Birthday. Because it’s your day, let’s have your kind of date. That means buffet right?
***
Thanks for being my greatest friend (and driver), for being understanding, patient, and stubbornly loyal (though it doesn’t matter). If it’s possible to fall in love with friendship, I think I did, and that’s what keeping me for the longest time.
You’ve always been lenient with me, allowing me to do whatever I want, whenever, wherever. You’re unimaginably kind and persistent. It’ll be hard for anyone to put up with my crazy antics and shit but you do, every single effing time. I have no idea where you get your staying power. Do you have fetish for indecisive complicated bohos? :/
Anyway, I hope you reach this part of my open letter because I know you hate reading so I’m ending it now. Happy Happy Birthday! Thank you for sharing your past 5 birthdays with me. I wish you all the happiness that you deserve.
I will always love you.