Objects in the Rear View Mirror ...

"Are you a movie star?"
That's the first thing she said to me. Would you think it's an effective pick-up line? I actually thought she was making fun of me at the time. I was growing my hair. It wasn't short anymore but it still wasn't really long either. I was in that awkward time when you can't tie a ponytail and your hair hangs messily into your face. I certainly didn't feel like a movie star. Still, her smile seemed genuine. She squeezed onto the bench next to me. The table in the little student bar was getting crowded - the guy she had arrived with had to sit at the next table. And the girl I was trying to have a date with sat unreachably two people away from me happily chatting and laughing with a guy I hadn't been introduced to.
So, partially to avoid feeling jealous, I made conversation, too. Who was this girl who was teasing me with fame despite my hair? She explained she was from Malaysia but was ethnically Chinese. Indeed she was short, maybe 1 meter 60 with long black hair and a cute Asian face with big, brown eyes. I clearly remember thinking that she was really cute. I had to ask her where Malaysia was. I asked her about the golden necklace she was wearing. Dangling from it on her chest was a Chinese character. She showed it to me, explained how to pronounce it and told me it was her family name. A few minutes later I had forgotten most of those facts again. But the conversation with her was very easy and time passed quickly. At the end of the evening she left with the others and, in private with my date at last, I got turned down.
Fast forward to next week. Same group of people. This time we went to the student club. She was there with two other Asian guys. On the dance floor, jerking wildly to pop music, I met her. We started dancing together and soon the group around us was forgotten. We smiled at each other, bumped hips in time with the music and stared intently into each other's eyes. When her friends wanted to leave I asked her to stay but she couldn't. The two guys were taking her back.
The next day I met her outside the dining hall. I was actually quite excited to see her again. She greeted me with: "Hello, dancing man." My heart sank. She was making fun of me, after all. She thought last night had been silly. Still, we chatted and I eventually went ahead asking her out. No intentions. To make a friend. Dinner at a pub near university. She said yes.
Fast forward again to the night of our dinner. We talked all the way through the meal and on until the pub closed. When we left it was raining. Where to go? Our halls were 20 minutes' walking distance from here. We ran for shelter to the maths and physics building, which had a porch with a small roof. We sat in the dark and talked while the rain poured down. She was cold, so I put my arm around her. She told me many things about herself, her life. Today I can't remember anymore why she started crying. Hearing her sob in the dark, rainy night I didn't know what to do, so I just held her, hugged her close, tried to comfort her. Next thing I knew she had turned around in my arms and planted her lips on mine. It was my first kiss. And even when she pressed so hard that I cut my lips on my own teeth I didn't dare to speak up. I was afraid the moment would end. We were still sitting there long after the rain had stopped. I remember when I finally got to my room 3 am had already passed. I was wondering if everything had just been a dream.
We continued to meet in the evening, after dark. Her friends were not to know that her boyfriend (I was her boyfriend - it had a nice ring to it) was a Westerner. It had something of a mystery romance, meeting in secret behind the halls or down by the beach. It was cold but I never cared because she would be there. We went for walks in the park or on the beach between lectures during the day, met again for dinner in the evening and shared one of our small single beds at night.
Friends on my floor in the halls were getting excited. Who was my new girlfriend? They wanted me to introduce her. A course mate who lived next door told me he didn't like me seeing her. My affection for the last girl, he said, had been more genuine. It wouldn't last. I didn't know what he meant. A friend of hers asked me to his room. He told me that she was his good friend, he wouldn't let me hurt her. I didn't get it: why would I want to hurt her? Another course mate, I learned later, was talking behind my back: I was having myself some "bamboo". I didn't even begin to understand where he was coming from.
I did know that for the first time in my life I was falling completely, deeply, hopelessly in love.

But it was long ago and it was far away
Oh God, it seems so very far
And if life is just a highway
Then the soul is just a car
And objects in the rear view mirror
May appear closer than they are
And objects in the rear view mirror
May appear closer than they are
...

Fast forward days, months, years. Separation. Reunion. Exams. Holidays. Job hunting. Present day. So many things have happened between us. Some good, some less so. She is far away in a different country under different stars and with a different man now. I have also moved on. I am not the man that dreamed with her on the beach then. I have found someone new again. Our love is only a distant memory. She has chosen to forget, to not let the past burden her. But I refuse to let go. Why?
It's like the box of memorabilia that you keep in the attic. They collect dust. They fade. And everyone tells you to throw them out already. Life goes on, friends come and go, people change, you gain a bit you loose a bit. But sometimes, in a quiet moment, you go up there and flip through them slowly, inspecting them one by one before you carefully put them back. And you're glad they're still there. Because this is something nobody can take from you. This is you. And sometimes you think what a funny old life it has been.