February 21, 2013: Still trying to make you laugh.
At this moment ten years ago, I mustered up the courage to ask you out on a date, after having chickened out a week earlier. It was a Friday night. We had dinner at a little noodle shop where we had 車仔麵. For reasons that escape me I kept calling it 車仔飯, which seemed to amuse you a lot more than it should have. Later, we took in a whimsical rom-com called 老鼠愛上貓. As it turned out, Hong Kong films were a common interest we were able to discuss in the office, in our mother tongue, without raising much suspicion.
After I dropped you home, you smiled meekly at me and said you had a great time. That made me so happy I nearly punched a hole through the roof of my car as I drove home.
Back then, you wore fruity Birkenstocks, Urban Decay make-up and your hair was crazy-short. I wore New Rocks, lots of black, and my hair came down to my knees. Today, we have a house, two beautiful children, a habit of finishing each other’s sentences; and you still won’t fart in front of me.
We don’t really take the time to celebrate this day anymore because we have so much to celebrate as it is, but it’s a day I can’t ever forget.