Memories over a meal


This evening I was invited by my sweet Vietnamese girlfriend to test a 3-courses meal she would prepare for the Valentine’s day. It is always a special occasion to be at her place not only because the food is delicious, but also because I had kept a particular memory about her place. And I am sure you would know why.

Almost two years ago, she invited me on a mild evening of September for dinner. And as she had seen you a few times before at my place, also for dinner, she had decided to invite you too. I remember, you and I were new lovers. Not even for a month. It was a nice surprise as you accepted her invitation. I arrived there a bit before you. I remember I had not seen you for maybe ten days. I was very glad to see you that evening. We had enjoyed every minute of it. The atmosphere was relaxed. You listened to us a lot. By that time, my friend was in a difficult sentimental phase and you were a perfect guest. Patient, you listened to us and our girly stories about love and romance.

I remember I felt close to you, like a good friend. I already liked the way you were with my friends. Easygoing, gentleman. Perfect.

I remember when you arrived, you entered the living room, immediately my cheeks had blushed and my ears were warmer. There was something about you. I remember you showed me your left foot which was all swollen. You got injured helping a friend in a moving. I remember I felt so sorry for you.

I don’t think I was not nervous. I was a bit nervous. We had to pretend we were just friends in front of the others. Later on, my friend asked me: “Was there something between you two?” “Why?” I answered. “Well, because at that dinner, I felt something very intense and very erotic between you two. Each time I turned my back to go get something in the kitchen or to prepare the food, I had the feeling that you two were kissing or touching, right?, my friend said to me. “No, no. Not at all. There was nothing.” I answered.

I remember we behaved very good that evening. We said goodbye to my friend and left the apartment together.

I remember as soon as we were in the elevator, we started to kiss each other, a bit shyly first. I remember in the street in front of her house, we really kissed each other passionately. Like two adolescents. It was like a storm, a thunder. It lasted forever. The mild temperature of September was perfect for our kisses.

It was the first time that I had felt something different from you. You were not like the others. I remember I took the bus back home because you got your motorcycle.

By that time, I thought it was lust. Even a few weeks after that evening and that stunning kiss, I still thought that was just lust. I was so attracted to you that I thought love could not be that intense. My body reacted to your presence, to your voice, to the view of your hands, your arms in a very intense way. I thought I could explain that with something more physical, hormonal, and not emotional.

A few months after that evening, I was falling in love with you. Lust was taken over by love. The physical attraction had given to the emotions a special place. Each time we saw each other again, there was a combination of both. But I knew that September evening had triggered something in me. Like Murakami had written: “Ice is cold, roses are red, I am in love”. 

That evening which ended with that long kiss in the street was a sign.

Tonight I said goodbye to my friend. I stayed exactly two minutes in front of the house, exactly at the same spot where we were kissing. I said to myself: “I had loved him exactly here. Ice is cold, roses are red. I fell in love exactly here.”

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