dated 15th July 2006

I was trying to flirt with ideas about something to write on, when I decided my water-darmaged cardboard box of letters and keepsake items was a good place to begin with.

Yours' the only person's letters which I keep separate, in a previously used-for FerroRoche chocolates. Perhaps it is a sign that your letters are precious to me, more precious than the rest of the letters given to me by the other people. ("All the latters in the big cardboard box are equally precious, but yours are more precious than the rest.")

I think I have at least two letters written by you for the occasion of Valentines' Day. Not that the content was anything lovely-dovely. I appreciated the lines you wrote declaring that you appreciated me, no matter how corny and ridiculous it may sound now, because I guess hindsight about such things has always been corny.

One of the statements I will always remember you made about me (or perhaps, due to my memory slipup, you might never had said this, but nevertheless;) is that you saw something in me and decided to go on talking to me. Now that I do a bit of analysing on that, it might just make you a God, if taken broadly; because I felt that you believed in me, bothered to listen to me (or at least, you did a fantastic job making me believe so) and allowed me to be comfortable with myself.

If I ever think about an example of a good date, my mind will not fail to recall memories of our initial dates together. I was apprehensive because it was my first date: I probably had doressed up too formally, while you struck me as someone who was more comfortable with yourself compared to my comfort level with myself; you were dressed more causually. A couple of 'freezed images' fly across my mind: us, having just boarded the double-decker bus to town from our interchange - you had made me wait half hour or so that I thought I was being stood up, and mobiles were not very widespread among the young then. So, I could take my first good look at you after we rushed up the bus, which coincidentally came as you walked up to the bus berth. I asked you like what a good, polite boy would do, whether it was okay to sit next toy you on the same bus seat. You giggled and gave me a quick 'no, I don't mind' answer, so our conversation started. And I remember after the first five minutes (and at periodic times during our numberous dates) that because we were having a running, interesing conversation, this must be a great date, and that made me smile even wider.

For a fifteen year old boy, it was the closest I've ever been with someone else besides my mother, physically. You had already watched the movie before, but didn't mind watching it again because you said it was a great movie. Even before the movie started, I was worried about what to say about the movie when you would ask me about it at the end; I eventually found a word to describe the movie; I told you proudly that I thought it was a very ' colourful' movie.