I woke up on the plane with tears in my eyes. It’s been a while since I dreamt about you. I still vividly remember that night, when your 6’6 body pressed against my 5’3 one while we were giving each other both our flesh and our hearts. Back then, I was too young to comprehend everything going on that night, but I finally do now. I was, and pretty much still am, a fucked up mess with enough issues to scare anyone away. And, as a twist of fate, you came into my life. I recently confessed to some close friends that I haven’t found any single moment of peace since I could remember. But that was a fat lie. I did, at least, have a chance to take a small bite of that heavenly fruit that night in your hotel room in the burning heat of Saigon’s summer. You never showed me how to get it, but from the gaze of your mesmerizing deep blue eyes, the touch of your callous hands from all the competitive cross-fits, and, especially, your deep accented voice, you already showed me what to look for, and I’ll forever be grateful for that. At the same time, in some sense, I also hate you for that as well.

Sometimes I wonder if that was a cruel joke from fate to put you into my life so suddenly just to take you away right after. Since you, I’ve been with so many guys to the point I lost count, but none was like you. Hell, I don’t even remember most of their names now, but why are all the memories of those two days, especially that very night, still so vivid? Not only do I still remember your name but I also remember the shivering feeling down my spine from all the sexual excitement when you introduced yourself with that deep South African accent.

We barely slept that night, but during our short naps, I, wrapped in your sturdy arms and rested on your warm muscular chest, could not sleep any better because my body finally stopped tensing up as my mind, temporarily, stopped wandering in the traumas of the past or the frightening uncertainties of the future. At those moments, time stopped and the world ceased to exist, and those who were left were us, skin to skin and soul to soul against each other. Chris, do you know that you have set the bar so high that now every man I’ve encountered feels like, at most, just a cheap replicate, a counterfeit, of you? Some of them are very attractive, even more attractive than you, but none of them could make my body excited like the way you gently caressed my body or give me that peaceful feeling when you hugged me from behind, kissed my neck, and listened to the confidences of a young 19-year-old Vietnamese boy. I’d be lying to myself if I say I haven’t begun to lose hope. Anyway, these words will never reach you, because I’m too much of a coward to tell you my feelings. But also, there is just no point. We crossed paths once, and I know we will never see each other again, so these words would just be nothing but unnecessary emotional weight for you. We both know we each left a part of us in that room that summer night, so that whenever it gets too hard for me, I can retreat to that special place just to find a little bit of solace from the ghost of you. And maybe, one day, I will find myself a man to walk this life with me, who is good enough that I never have to compare him to you.

Thank you, my handsome South African man.