First Love

I always thought I was gonna marry him.

When I was 16, he was my first love. Like any typical romance influenced by American TV, I loved the X-Files, and he was my Fox Mulder. He was tall, dark, handsome, intelligent and charming, the apple of my eye, the man of my desire. I looked up to him as my big brother, and hoped that I would be similar to him in every way.

He was ambitious and self-disciplined, and search as I might, the word "quit" was never in his dictionary. I was drawn to his ambitions, his leadership qualities, his mastery of his own life, and the mysterious ways in which he always managed to accomplish what he wanted.

Being a good student then, it was easy for me to keep up with my peers. Be president of a prominent society, be role model to my juniors, be a straight-A student. But I could never be quite like him. No matter how hard I tried, I found it harder and harder to keep up with his pace, his accomplishments that drove him further and further away from me.

While I got good grades in my PMR, he got full A's in his STPM. While I got top of the class, he would be top in his school. While I was president of a club, he would be the head prefect of his school. When I got to Form Five, he was already pursuing his professional degree at university.

And even now.

After five whole years of losing contact, it was by quaint chance that we found ourselves in a small diner in Penang. He was still himself, while I was no longer the timid shy schoolgirl that he had always thought of as "little sister". I thought I had done it, being an engineer, a professional in one of the top corporations in the world, and achieved my own goals. I thought, at last, I had balanced out our achievements. With good faith, we'd see eye-to-eye and be counterparts, both him and I. After five years of university, I had achieved something distinctly similar to him, a professional degree. At last, I thought, I would be his equal.

But no.

I felt helplessly fixed at the same distance where I always was, far down the road from where he was. While I'm contributing to the growth of technology, he would actually be saving lives. While I'm fixing bugs, he would be sending off legions of antibodies to attack viruses. While I'm repairing violations, he would be repairing someone else's fractured bone. And while I'm lazing in bed thinking of those flexi-hours, he would be ever-punctual when his duty calls.

I suddenly felt daunted. All these years, I had tried to keep up with his pace, only finding out that I was running on the same forest lane as ever, with him already in a distance. He's Superman! How could I ever compare up to him?

This led me to ponder upon the pillow-talk I had with my roommate last night. She believed that guys would always prefer being the stronger sex, and girls who likened themselves to be a damsel in distress would more often than not, heed the hero's reply. Chase not, she said, and try to be a step behind. Men do not like strong girls, but prefer those who seek for protection.

I beg to differ.

This may not seem to be your typical love story, but this is the story of how I fell in love with the most amazing man ever, who I hope, in the end, will turn around and glance upon this forlorn girl who has been tagging along all this while.