Behind Every Strong Girl. Well, Me, At Least.

Few nights ago, as I was driving home from work, I suddenly recalled memories of an old ex-boyfriend.

I have not thought about him like that in years. Sure, sometimes I would wonder where he is, with whom and what I would say to him if I ever saw him again but I hardly ever thought of all the old memories.

I suddenly remembered how he looked like. A roughed-up version of Anuar Zain, that's what I used to think of him. The first time I introduced him to Ezzura, she gave me the thumbs up behind his back. Meaning : he's gorgeous. And he was. I suddenly recalled every detail of him. That scar cutting across his left eyebrow. He was pretty short, though, I was 15 and he was 21 but we were about the same height. Guess I'm way taller than him now. But he was buff. I wondered if he had put on weight since then and is just a fat, short, 28-year-old somewhere out there.

But I recalled other things too. Things I'd rather not remember right now that I'm sober of all the emotions I felt that night. But there was one memory that stood out. One memory that I have not thought of in a long time.

We had photos taken with his brother's camera back then. I remember, when our picture was taken, I was mad at him about something. So I was sitting next to him when the camera focused our way and I tried to conjure a fake smile on my face when he suddenly leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. I was taken aback. I laughed and turned towards him and that was when the camera clicked.

The picture came out with both of us smiling at each other. I loved that picture. I cut out slits on the very last page of my school book and slipped that picture in so I could stare at it all day in class.

No guesses why I wasn't a brilliant student then.

So anyway, all these memories came back on that drive home from work. They didn't make me miss him or choke me up with tears or anything. But it all felt so... unreal. Like it was from a dream. Or a book I read somewhere.

When I got home, I rummaged through my old diaries, looking for that particular ex in my childish handwriting. I found nothing.

Nothing.

And then I remembered what I did with everything that ever had a trace of him. I tore out all the pages of my diary that had his name on it. I threw out all his gifts, photos, and momentos. I wrote his phone number on the back cover of my diary but even that was blanked out.

I really don't know why but it felt strange. To have all these memories of someone who mattered so much to me once upon a time ago and yet have no trace of him left. It was like he never existed. And that bummed me out. He felt like a dream and nothing more.

What's worse was, as I went through my old diaries, I relived most of my teenage memories. I hated being a teenager. All that uncertainty, that self-searching that never seemed to end. The back stabbing friends, the dream boy that was out of reach, the parents who never understood, the constant need to have peer support.

It wasn't a very good time for me. I read about the boys who lied to me back then. Sure, most of the boys I had crushes on noticed me but most of them did not have honorable intentions. And there I was, asking that same question again and again (Does he love me?), all the while over-analyzing the situation and creating my own misery.

I look back now and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Because it's just so obvious that none of them really loved me and, to be honest, all I wanted back then was to be wanted. It's just so pathetic that I feel embarassed by it now.

Then, I came across another book. I had quite forgotten about the existence of this book. It was just before I left for London. I wrote a 3 page letter to Asrul on the front pages of that book and he wrote in it almost everyday while I was gone. Sort of like a diary.

I've only read this book once after he gave it to me when I returned to Malaysia, and back then I was so busy and excited to be back that the words didn't really register to me. I read it properly again that night and could almost hear him saying all those words to me.

In it, he wrote about how much he missed me, how he loves me. He wrote about the problems he had while I was away and how he wished to tell them all to me right there and then. How he would see me everywhere he went in HUKM while he was doing his practical there and how it drove him crazy. How he would never, ever cheat on me. He would put little smileys in his letters, some sad and some happy, even one or two smileys with glasses on to make it look like him and that just made me laugh.

Slowly, hate and embarrassment I felt for my teenage self ebbed away. My need to find living proof of that ex that changed everything faded.

In one of his letters, he dedicated a song to me. I'm not big on Malay songs but this one really touched my heart.

Gadisku
Seri mewangi bagai disiram selautan kasturi
Gadisku
Terindah padamu kerna tak pernah meminta selain cinta
Dialah gadisku selalu
Tak peduli apa kata orang terhadapnya
Aku tahu dia gadisku
Tak peduli nista yg terlempar padaku
Dia tahu dia gadisku

And then I didn't care anymore about the past. I didn't care about the friends who bailed as soon as I needed them. I didn't care about the boys who I thought cared about me and who I thought I cared about.

Because all of that led me to him. He loves me for who I am today, despite of my past. And he is the only one of all the guys I've ever dated who doesn't want to know the gory details. The others probably got a cheap thrill out of it. But not Asrul. He can't stand the thought of me loving anyone before him.

But I think most of who I am today was shaped by my teenage experience, however horrible it was. It taught me many valuable lessons and though I am not proud of what I did, I most definitely would not wish my past to be any different. Well, I might tweak a few boring bits but that's all.

I have come so far since then. That girl writing in those diaries, she seems almost unrecognizable to me.

And that epic love story I thought I had? Turns out it's just beginning.