It was a weekend in Singapore with a girlfriend from the past. When we embraced each other at the airport we brought with us a suitcase of manners, languages, and stories that we had loved but had packed away to make it easier to go through life. We unpacked them and talked about past boyfriends, past parties, previous dreams, and how far or near we'd come.
She's still in the thick of student life. I stayed at her dorm and met her multinational friends and went to their parties. It was just like old times, but at a different place, with different people. I remember Mr. Eight used to say, "I'm too old for this" whereas back then I felt like I had just been born. Now I think I understand except that I refuse to say I'm too old for this. I'll call it something else. In Singapore I noticed things I never used to notice before. I disliked the flatness of her dorm room pillows. I disliked standing in a long line just to get free drinks. The music wasn't quite right and I had to get drunk to enjoy it properly. I threw up for the first time in 2 years, out of a cab window. The conversations were as interesting as they used to be, but could not live up to my memories of genuine love at a time and place when my friends were everything I needed.
Still it was different and thus better than most weekends. I bought a hot leather miniskirt on a whim. When Mr. Right came to pick me up from the airport I told him to stash it in his wardrobe because it would be no use taking it home for mother to see. He laughed and said, "do you know that most people start wearing the veil after they get married, instead of strip down?" He didn't ask me details of what I did that weekend. It is really good to be back.
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