"This is the final boarding call for passengers traveling on flight number AJ302. Please proceed to gate oh five immediately", the sterile announcement wafted through as I sat deeply engrossed in a whodunnit. The announcement produced no effect on me because it wasn't my flight. I was waiting for my connecting flight which wouldn't start boarding for another hour. So I sat with my e-reader set to dim, indulging in my one guilty pleasure. Murder mysteries weren't usually great literature but they helped pass the time and more importantly kept me awake. The eight hour flight from home had left me drained. I had slept intermittently but not enough.
I checked my watch for the hundredth time, contemplated browsing the duty-free section, discarded the idea because I was loath to leave the comfort of the lounge (complimentary with my high spender's credit card). That was when I heard his voice calling my name. I turned, responded with a lukewarm "Hi" and flashed a bored smile. Because I can apparenty do that even with a two-hundred-beats-per-minute heartrate. I did a quick assessment in my head - I had chewed off all my lipstick and some of my lip tissue while reading, having slept on and off my mascara was sure to be running and my hair had a mind of its own. I then chided myself on my vanity because I knew these things shouldn't bother me, at least not when facing him, but they did.
We were not friends but we were definitely more than acquaintances. We had been brought together not by fates but by the ceaselessly energetic class of people who cannot imagine a higher calling than in ensuring that everyone they know has tied the knot. Every community has them, ours is just a tad over-enthusiastic. Over time, the two of us had fallen into that nameless limbo that people like us end up in. We were the "almost-happened" couple. The kind that matchmaker aunties rue about - if only the could reconcile. But of course we couldn't. Although I'm sure each of us has a different version, the parting was almost mutual. There is that moment when you realise that your to-be is not to be. But this then begs the question as to why I was so cheesed off about running mascara.
Well, relationships are complicated. None more so than the ones that come about "unnaturally". If we had met by chance, would we have worked out? If I had held my tongue, would we still be together? What kind of togetherness would it be though, always having to second-guess? All moot questions and utterly useless. But I did think about them and I did think about him from time to time.
All this rushed through my head as we were going through the motions, exchanging pleasantries, inquiring about each others lives politely. Him offering to get coffee, me declining, politely. Him asking polite questions about work, me answering. The air was heavy with all the forced politenes. There was a lull in conversation and he suddenly asked if I was married. I answered in the negative and had to bite my tongue in order to not ask the same question back, like a reflex action. I did not want to know. At least that way I could delude myself into thinking that there was something wrong with the both of us, that it just wasn't me who was unmarriageable.
Time was passing too slowly for my liking. We ran out of things to say to each other. Thankfully another announcement came through and turned out that his flight was boarding. We said our goodbyes. Before leaving he said he would see me around. I said he wouldn't because I was permanently moving out of the country. There was a fleeting look of (shock? disappointment?) something on his face. He was composed the next moment, bid me luck and went out the door and my life once again. I returned to my book and a tear splashed on the dimly lit screen.
I checked my watch for the hundredth time, contemplated browsing the duty-free section, discarded the idea because I was loath to leave the comfort of the lounge (complimentary with my high spender's credit card). That was when I heard his voice calling my name. I turned, responded with a lukewarm "Hi" and flashed a bored smile. Because I can apparenty do that even with a two-hundred-beats-per-minute heartrate. I did a quick assessment in my head - I had chewed off all my lipstick and some of my lip tissue while reading, having slept on and off my mascara was sure to be running and my hair had a mind of its own. I then chided myself on my vanity because I knew these things shouldn't bother me, at least not when facing him, but they did.
We were not friends but we were definitely more than acquaintances. We had been brought together not by fates but by the ceaselessly energetic class of people who cannot imagine a higher calling than in ensuring that everyone they know has tied the knot. Every community has them, ours is just a tad over-enthusiastic. Over time, the two of us had fallen into that nameless limbo that people like us end up in. We were the "almost-happened" couple. The kind that matchmaker aunties rue about - if only the could reconcile. But of course we couldn't. Although I'm sure each of us has a different version, the parting was almost mutual. There is that moment when you realise that your to-be is not to be. But this then begs the question as to why I was so cheesed off about running mascara.
Well, relationships are complicated. None more so than the ones that come about "unnaturally". If we had met by chance, would we have worked out? If I had held my tongue, would we still be together? What kind of togetherness would it be though, always having to second-guess? All moot questions and utterly useless. But I did think about them and I did think about him from time to time.
All this rushed through my head as we were going through the motions, exchanging pleasantries, inquiring about each others lives politely. Him offering to get coffee, me declining, politely. Him asking polite questions about work, me answering. The air was heavy with all the forced politenes. There was a lull in conversation and he suddenly asked if I was married. I answered in the negative and had to bite my tongue in order to not ask the same question back, like a reflex action. I did not want to know. At least that way I could delude myself into thinking that there was something wrong with the both of us, that it just wasn't me who was unmarriageable.
Time was passing too slowly for my liking. We ran out of things to say to each other. Thankfully another announcement came through and turned out that his flight was boarding. We said our goodbyes. Before leaving he said he would see me around. I said he wouldn't because I was permanently moving out of the country. There was a fleeting look of (shock? disappointment?) something on his face. He was composed the next moment, bid me luck and went out the door and my life once again. I returned to my book and a tear splashed on the dimly lit screen.
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