For you, B.B.

Tonight at 9pm curfew starts in several cities in Europe. We are lucky as it will not affect us. For once, the long distance is our advantage.

Let me remember how it all starts with you. Some virtual exchanges. Some “likes” and “comments” here and there on social media. I have known you through your movies and acting. And lately I have gotten to know you as the most decent human being I have been in contact with. Every small words you write is well chosen. Never too much, never too few. You always have the right tone and I really appreciate you for that.

When I receive your words, I smile. They have made me feel happy for the last few months. Why? I do not really know why, but as said, maybe because they reflect your intelligence and certainly also a bit of your soul. One cannot write and react with care, refinement and delicacy without having an extremely developed emotional intelligence.

I like to exchange with you. I thought it was something quite normal to like to exchange with you. Until something happened. A few days ago, suddenly I saw that you unfollowed me on Instagram. I would not care about that if it had been someone else. But not you. It cannot be you. In one second, I felt like there was not enough blood coming to my heart and I could faint on the train. My heart physically ached. I could hardly breathe. I did not know what happened. The day before, you still wrote to me.

My whole life I have tried not to be vulnerable. Why would I feel so vulnerable that day ? I decided to write to you and ask you why you unfollowed me. That was the only way to do to know why, even though I had for a moment to expose myself and tell you how I felt. My courage received the most beautiful price. You wrote back to me and it was not you who did it. Something happened and you did not know why. A few others of your friends were also unfriended. You wrote to me that you would never do that to me and I am a treasure that you would never want to lose.

My heart from pain to succumbing, to melting. You make me feel new. Not only happy. New. That day I went to a piano rehearsal and I played with my heart and with you on my mind. I played exceptionnally well that day.

The next day we wrote the whole day. You were in New Mexico shooting a new movie. In spite of the time zone, you were with me the whole day. I told you that you are handsome and your beauty is illegal. You smiled and you did not agree with me. You told me you are old. For me, you are perfect. I insisted so many times. One day you will have to believe me. You will have no choice. You have to believe me that your heart and your soul are so special. I will insist until you believe.

The whole day I went through your Instagram pictures. I looked at your blue eyes, clear and sweet and plenty of good intentions. I told you that if I were a filmmaker and I was to shoot a movie, in my movie, the female main protagonist would fly to New Mexico and ask the male protagonist to marry her, all in 24 hours and fly back home. In spite of the Covid situation. In spite of everything that could happen in this world. You told me that in our movies, there would be very few scenes with dialogues, only gazes between the two people. That would be an intense movie – I said – with your eyes, blue like the ocean and your face, tanned and beautiful, where every wrinkle is placed perfectly, like a piece of art.

The day of your birthday I played the song on piano and sang for you. It was the first time I did it for someone. I told you that I did it for you because you deserved it. You said you were melting. I would do anything to make your heart melt even more. Or at least to make your heart sing and be happy all year round and not only at your birthday.

You had a dream about us. Your words that I copy here, words by words, because they are so beautiful: ” It was very sunny on a balcony. I was in the shade sitting on a table. And I told you to come in from the sun”. I told you about my dream during a nap. We were in the South of France, we were driving a convertible old Mustang like in the “Bullitt” movie. Dreams are with you, every time.

You want to know about the whole story of my life. Be sure that I will let you know me. Again I quote you, words by words: “If Bach has gotten to know you, I shall get to know you”. I remind you that if there is Bach anything is possible. On that one, we agree. On your beauty, you still fight back and tell me that I am wrong. But one day you will agree with me too.

People criticize Facebook and Instagram and the social media. I cannot say anything. They brought you to me. It is a wonderful gift. I wish us everything, I wish us more of everything. The sharing laughs, the longing, the melting hearts, the crazy imaginary movies we will make. Most of all, I wish you well and all the lovely things you could have, including me.

The “Why” question

There are some misfortunes and challenges in life. In matters of love, things can be complicated. One person dealing with oneself is already not easy, imagine all the inner conflicts, the inner thoughts, the ideas and theories we have inside of our minds. When we love someone, we deal with another person. We invite this people to our heart/mind/soul. We plan to share these thoughts. Tough task. Now we are willing to share and express them, tougher task. Even not all of them and only part of them.

Then here come the misfortunes. I still can’t classify their degrees of difficulties and probably there are much more but here is a sample of some love misfortunes I can think of this morning:

1. Love expressed but is not believed. You take all your courage and express your love to the beloved. Surprise reaction: they think you are not serious and you are just joking or playing some mind games. You try to show them how committed you can be. Still they look at you as if you were an alien. You ask yourself: WHY?

2. Love expressed. The other person does not love you. It is obvious all the signals. The tricky part is they don’t tell you that they don’t love you at all. Instead they stick around and seem to accept your love. You wait for them to tell you to get lost. They don’t. Your question: WHY?

3. Love expressed and is shared by the other person. At least you think it is reciprocal, you have some hints. But they don’t tell you and you never know why. You stick around with doubts, they stick around too but between you two, a very big question mark. Your question: WHEN they are gonna tell you they love you? Deep down you know they will NEVER do it. The question remains then: WHY?

4. Love expressed. The other person loves you. You have more than signals. They don’t tell you and the worst part is they run away. They are scared? They do not want to take the risk to love you? You still ask the same question: WHY?

I would welcome all your comments about WHAT you would do for yourself in 1), 2), 3), 4) considering a particular dilemma: the other person refuses to talk about this matter (especially in the case 4 it is kind of difficult as he disappeared completely..). All other variables such as “how long have they been together? do they get along well? what is their future plan?” are not important here. Please only consider the mind set and what could eventually be the other person’s reasoning.

Thank you so much and have a great day!

When differences bring strength

I hate those Sundays like these. I had been out late yesterday night. Woke up late this morning. The weather was not great, a bit stormy and heavy. Migraines are back. I spent the whole day in my room with curtains closed. I can’t stand light when I have headaches.

D.’s mail arrived after 10 days without. D. had been traveling for the last two weeks somewhere in Norway. D. is my pen pal. We met twice the last two summers I had spent in Stockholm, through a friend of a friend. Somehow we became pen pal because it just happened that D. writes to me everyday. D. told me he hasn’t decided yet in which category of relationship we are. We both found it weird at first the daily mail exchange and then it became a routine. Nothing happened between us physically the two times we met. Partly because D. was always in love with someone and me too. We have never been completely available in our minds to see what could happen between us. But then there were never questionings or debates about it. We did not avoid the subject either. We just appreciate each other a lot, more than anything. And we just write to each other. Sometimes I thought if D. and I were in the same city, we would see each other every single day instead of writing. I am pretty sure.

The first time we met, D brought me to an underground party under a bridge, a bit outside of Stockholm. I discovered that time the daylight at midnight, famous of Stockholm. The second time we met, I chose a church called St-Catherine, downtown. I waited for D. inside, D arrived from behind my back: “Hi there, at least here we can’t sin, right?”.

The success of D. among women is indescribable and at the same time unavoidable. Just imagine for a second a Kurdish guy with a smile which could be used for a Colgate’s ads, a young Omar Sharif, imagine this type of beauty in the middle of Sweden, where the whole male population is mainly blond. D. is conscious about that but he seems to use this advantage modestly. Of course, D. lives one love story after another, and one heartbroken story after another. We both crave for love, D. and I, but we are like “good cop and bad cop”. D. is the nice one, the optimistic who believes in each love story even before he has gotten a chance to start it. I have lost the illusion of love a long time ago. D. falls in love easily, I control and resist. D. stands up for love, fight for it each time. I give up, walk away.

I like the way D. immerses in sorrows, pulls himself together and move on. D. comes from a traditional Kurdish family. He was raised in a particular environment where the girl he decides to date with should be the girl he gets married with. It stresses D. out a lot and he is so confused sometimes, the fact he could never bring his girlfriend home to introduce to his parents. I was born and raised in a Vietnamese family in which my mother had never once cared about the color of the skin of my ex-boyfriends. D. wants family and kids, I never think of kids.

I like the way D. being crazier than me when it comes to love. D. is the only man I know who could create a whole Excel spreadsheet with colorful columns filled up with tiny notes and memories about the women he dated, day by day, hour by hour. It makes me laugh that D. can be that girly. But thanks to D., I believe men are more romantic than women, that men can suffer. D. shows me the softness of a man and it gives me hope. On my side, I always try to calm D. down in his hectic quest for love. I don’t want D. to get hurt.

Today, at the end of D.’s mail, he wrote: “What do you want in your life ?”

“No clue, D., right now, I want you to come to my city so we can see the reflections of the sun in the lake and you can tell me more about your impossible conquests.”

Beyond you

I like spending time talking with your mom. Because the way she talks about you, you are just a normal guy to her, and it relaxes me that only one of us thinks you are a hero.

She does not have these minuscule sparkles in her eyes when she mentions your name. Mine are like champagne bubbles when I hardly hear the first sound of your initial.

She mentions you from time to time, casually, in our conversations. I listen but never ask for more. We don’t have that kind of conversation: “when he was young…he did this, that”…Thanks God, it would be so common and predictable.

Instead we have that girl/women talk. Love, life, dream, death. All there. We can spend the whole afternoon together, drinking tea and talk. But she and me, you and me, we are two separate identities. Two different mental constructions. I am not there because she is your mom. Still, both of us can feel this intangible proximity tightened by your omnipresent absence and your visible invisibility.

But I don’t deny: it makes me feel good to be sitting in front of the woman who had seen you the very first second you are on earth.