I don’t exactly remember who suggested that I should do this, but since I don’t really have anything else to do nowadays, I was reminded of this suggestion that was put across to me some time back by a friend. Pardon me for the extra information that I tend to put up before beginning on what I planned to write. I have tried writing about my love life several times, all of it ending up like a cheesecake. Sweet, smooth and cheesy. This is yet another attempt and this time I am looking forward to writing about the real stuff. It doesn’t mean whatever I have written earlier is unreal, it’s just that my boyfriend is sometimes too good to be true. Here you go… a little sugar for the cheesecake I will probably end up baking by the end of this essay.
We started off as friends five years ago. Both of us went through a phase of confusion after a year and a half into our friendship. Soon, at the end of two years of being friends, on March 11, 2017, we stayed up all night talking and falling asleep on each other’s arms. When we woke up after a few hours, the sun was brighter, the wind was colder and our hearts were warmer. And that’s how we knew we had to be more than just friends who hid their feelings for each other behind notebooks and stolen glances.
Talking for hours sitting at random bus stops, a hot cup of chai and kachori in the evenings and walking around in Bangalore was what brought us closer as each day passed by.
After almost two years into the relationship, it was time for us to start a new phase. The scariest one. Long-Distance Relationship. To make it sound less scary, I started calling it “International Love” (my way of coping with emotionally challenging things). I sent him off to Canada with a heavy heart and he left India with a heavier heart, but we promised to not end whatever we have merely because of this physical distance that came in between us.
Bangalore wasn’t the same for me after he left.
Soon, maybe after a month or two, people started asking me how we are managing the LDR. Some asked me why we never considered a “break”. I didn’t exactly know what answers were expected from me, but I always replied with, “we’re okay”. Honestly, being in different time zones with twelve and a half hours difference in time, finding time to talk to each other was a task for both of us. In the beginning, we lost track of our sleep cycle because it was important to share each and everything at the end of each one’s day. Our ‘inevitable couple fights’ drained all our energy because making up had to be more than just texting or phone call. Gradually, as we became accustomed to the distance in terms of communicating, it became harder when one of us badly needed a hug at the least. It started feeling like something was taken away from us. Amidst all of it, what kept us strong was the hope of being together again one day.
Eleven months. After eleven months, he planned a visit to Bangalore, where it all started. This was like a bonus we earned for all those heart-wrenching times. On the day of his arrival, as I waited for him at the airport excited and happy, I felt my heart skip a beat. No, not because I saw him but because of the thought of being back at the same place fifteen days later to send him off again. It didn’t feel good. Not all ‘heart-skipping-a-beat’ is a good feeling. And when we were back at the airport, this time to bid farewell, we could feel our hearts shattering into pieces that night. You may think that goodbyes become easier with time, we too expected it to be easier this time, but only to lose the glee on our faces after seeing each other walking away in different directions to go back to our realities. In those fifteen days, we were in our own world. It was magical. But magic fades away when the clock strikes midnight.
A few days after he left, we were celebrating our three year anniversary. March 11, 2020. We bought ourselves dinner, had a nice meal and thanked God for giving us what we have.
How do you like my cheesecake this time?