A letter

It's interesting you asked for a more detailed story of the long-time crush. I might disappoint you as the story itself was quite plotless. So here is how it went.

Back in 1990 when I was a sophomore in college, my girlfriends and I met a few young men while hiking to a peach blossom destination. Those young men just graduated from college and started working in a city nearby. It was Spring and Sichuan is always beautiful in Spring with all sorts of blooming flowers competing for attention. We ran out of films to capture the moments. Those young men appeared friendly and were nearby with cameras of different lenses, looking quite professional. We approached them with photo-taking request, which was readily granted. Back then China suffered little pollution both in its environment and in people’s minds and understandably we felt no risk making request as such to strangers. It was a beautiful and young encounter very innocent in nature.

Since then the boys and girls would go on many different excursions together. I do not recall any particular romance started within the group. Sprouted in its stead was rather a rare male-female friendship, at least in the eyes of me. But given the new enlightenment I recently received from you on friendship with male, I started to think there might be some contemplation from both sides of possible romantic development.

I was normally the quieter one in the group, reading the world around me more with my eyes and ears than with my mouth. It was not until a year afterwards when I was transferred to a different university in a new city that I started missing the presence of a certain young man in the group. By then he was in the States completing a scholarly exchange program. The distance intensified my desire to be with him. He did send letters periodically sharing what his visit in the States was like but nothing remotely romantic was indicated in those cross-ocean snail mail correspondence.

When he returned from the States, I got admitted to a graduate school program in the same city he was at. Of those in the group then, he and I were very much the only left able to visit each other often. In truth,  it was more of him coming to my campus for visits. I was then surrounded with another set of girlfriends so his visits were always with us girls as a group. The new group would cook together, dine together, share laughter, play badminton and cards. That lasted all the way after my graduation, upon which I was hired to teach on the same campus. We had many good memories of those good ole times. Some of us are still reminiscent of those old days. Of the trips the new group took with him and his friends, I was unable to make any because of  time conflicts. Thus I was never having the chance to be with him alone.

Sichuan is said to breed beautiful girls and I was very under-confident surrounded by those beauties. Every girlfriend of his introduced to the group was stunningly pretty in my young eyes.  Feeling underqualified in beauty as his prospect girlfriend, I never made known my crush on him even when he was periodically available.  I have no way till today to learn if he had any special feelings towards me.  I learned later on from a mutual acquaintance that he appeared quite melancholy and unusually quiet in a gathering when the news of my irrational marriage was shared.

We moved to the States just one year apart from each other. He has since married twice without kids and we are still in touch with an occasional exchange of seasonal greetings. As a matter of fact, just this past month when he and his wife were in town, they stayed at my house for a couple of nights. We had true conversations for the first time. After nearly three decades of being his friend, I found it quite surreal  sitting across from him, just the two of us, talking late into the night. I felt that I finally got to know him a bit, his childhood, his struggles with his parents, his first marriage, his sense of settling down with the current wife, whom he said was more out of companionship than love.  It was then I realized that all the time I had crush on a man I did not really know. It was more of my projection of what he was like that I fell in love with. Nonetheless, he has grown to be a dear friend, a part of me and my past. I wanted to hug him, to touch those cheeks, to caress those sad eyes, as a dear friend. But I remained seated. He is not a just a friend anymore. He is also someone else’s husband!

Comparing with your beautifully told and wonderfully remembered stories, mine is quite bland. I do hope it explains a little why I believe there is possible male-female friendship and some of the personality weakness I may still possess.

I was struck by the freshness of your Anita memory, the pains and yearnings you still carry today towards her. Interesting you mentioned Casablanca as that was what came to my mind when reading your Anita story. You will always have your Munich and that beautiful memory will remain so forever.

Of course, I have also since become more confident as a woman. Even more so with your witty encouragement.  For the past few days, I have been fully swept off my feet by your humor, your wisdom, your kind and gentle spirit that are shining through the lines. I feel very much flattered that you so generously shower your literary gifts on me, a shattered woman you have never met and likely never will. The part of me that has been dormant for a long while is slowly awakening to the touch of your words. Hearing from you has grown to be a daily anticipation. You helped lift me, however momentarily, from my reality, which, in the eyes of my peers, is quite adverse and harsh. I became more conscious of my womanhood and feel deeply valued. You offered to bring smiles to my face and provide warmth. You have delivered precisely what you promised. Thank you, Stan!