“Hey Jay, can I talk to you?” I typed, my fingers doing a little Riverdance on my laptop keyboard.

“Sure babe. What’s up?” he discarded the usual jovial greetings when he realised I was being serious.

Jay was the best person to talk cock with. A six-foot tall teddybear, you could have a discussion about anything, from blowjobs to buttercups and he wouldn’t blink an eyelash. Two years ago, when he was back in Singapore for his term holidays, he and I went out on a date. And oh, what a date it was! We spent the day watching a movie, eating at Swensens and then lounging around having hilarious arguments about the most unusual things you could think of, like women’s facial hair. It was, in short, perfect.

“Remember when we went out on a date a coupla years ago?” I typed.

“Yeeaaahhhh…?”

“I just wanted you to know that it was one of the best dates I’d ever been on. Even up till now. I had so much of fun.. and then I didn’t call you back.”

I paused. How the hell do you talk about something like this online?

“It’s not that I didn’t like you,” I continued. “I did. I really REALLY did. I just didn’t know what I was thinking and.. I wanna apologise for being a dick.”

There was a long pause at the other end. And then, a typical Jay-esque answer:

“Huh?”

Maybe he needed to get inside my head to understand what I was talking about. 2 years ago, I was sixteen, going on seventeen. I would go out with guys just for the fun of it, for the temporary high you get from meeting someone new and not knowing what’s going to happen. I’d meet them go out with them for a couple of dates and then just lose interest and stop returning their calls. I was a serial dater. Jay was one of the people who, strangely, made me feel perfectly comfortable within five minutes of our meeting. No butterflies, no endorphins. Like we’d known each other for years before this; which is probably why I didn’t flush when he teased me about how I had big... uh.. cups. I knew he was my type. I knew that I liked him. But what if things got boring? What if I stopped liking him? What if I needed that rush, that unpredictability? I liked being single. I liked dating around until I felt I was ready. I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m not ready to lose my freedom.

By the next week, I’d stopped answering Jay’s phonecalls. Our usual stream of smses and online conversations slowed to a trickle, and then stopped for good. We slowly drifted apart. Now, two years later, I find myself contemplating all the people I’ve wronged in my nineteen years of existence. I felt a sharp pang when I thought about Jay. It’d been gnawing at me over the years, and I’d always been able to shut it out. Until now.

I saw my MSN icon blink. He’d finally replied.

“Woman, calm down. Don’t be angry! I’m not angry with you, and you’re not a dick. I thoroughly enjoyed myself with you as well, and I know you had a good time. But, life is life.. there are reasons why things don't happen. Maybe there was something in your mind that was preventing you from doing so.”

I sighed. “I know, I’m just kicking myself for being rude I guess. I was pretty messed up when I met you. I’ve been doing quite a bit of contemplating recently, and I realise that what I did to you was awful.”

“Awful how?”

“I dunno.. I mean, I’d be pissed with me if I went out with me and I didn’t call me back.”

“Woman,” he typed. “It’s okay, seriously. I mean, I barely even remember it. Don’t let such a trivial matter bother you!”

“Well, I’m sorry again.”

I sensed him sigh on the other end. “Haaaiii Rabba, you did nothing wrong! So PLEASE. Even if you did, I don’t even remember it!”

“Okay..” I decided to try changing topics. “So, when are you coming back? Are you even coming back?”

“Aiyah, I don’t know, Chairs. I’m looking for a job in Melbourne now, and I really hope I find one.”

I glowered at the typo. “Oh thaaaaaanks Jay. So I’ve been reduced to furniture now?”

“Aaaahhh, furniture! Don’t you just LOVE furniture?” he said, his tone almost reminiscing.

And then, he added cheekily:

“Especially the ones with big cups?”