There was this girl.

There’s this girl that you see laughing and cracking jokes with her friends at the pub. Her friends are always there, sharing their joys and their stories – the latest gossips in their office. Who’s fucking with the boss? Who’s getting screwed for the failure of the last project? She’s laughing along, ordering the next round of Jaeger shots, and sharing her own stories too. “How does one become a philosopher? I think I am born in the wrong era.” “Yes, you can definitely be one. You ask way too many questions for your own good.”

There was this girl that you fell in love with. Maybe she smiled and talked to you, but she obviously fancied you. At least you thought that she showed you the signs that she liked you. She asked if you’d like to join her for a couple of drinks after she finished her shift. You had a margarita, and she had an Asahi. You told her about how you dislike a woman with a tattoo or smokes. She lit up her first cigarette and deliberately turned around to reveal her sizable tattoo on her upper right shoulder. She laughed and said, “So why are we still talking?”

There was this girl that you took home after the third date, to “watch a movie”. You played her some songs on your guitar and sang. She just smiled from ear to ear. Both of you watched an old movie on the sofa, just cuddling. You tried to kiss her; she pulled away. It was time for bed, and once again, you tried to kiss her, to get closer. She said, “No, I am not ready for that.” “So why are you here?” “You said we were going to watch a movie and then sleep.”

One day, your good friend texted you about this girl he thought you should meet. You looked at her photo and thought, why not? You met her at a bar, the night before your brunch date.

There’s this girl who walks like she owns the street. You might have seen her somewhere, but you didn’t get the chance to talk to her; she was always with her friends and you didn’t want to risk being rejected in public. You might have seen her drinking alone at the bar, talking to the bartender. You might have seen her with her best friend, at the Vietnamese pick-up joint, playing pool with a cigarette hanging off her mouth. You might have seen her holding hands with someone, right hand waving goodbye to her friends at the bar. You might have seen her but you didn’t say hi.

There was this girl that you met at a club. She danced suggestively with you. She kissed you hard, exploring your mouth and your hard-on. You took her home. She undressed you, and pushed you to your bed. She undressed herself. She said, “Fuck me now.” You held her down, fucked her for the first time. The next morning you woke up, she was there, sleeping naked. You woke her up with a kiss. She smiled, said “Good morning.” She went to shower, left the house with yesterday’s clothes. You texted her, “Shall we meet again?” No reply.

There was this girl that you thought you loved. Both of you often fought over the little things. All she wanted was for you to trust her, just as much as she trusted you. She gave you chances after chances. She was your first girlfriend, so she thought you deserved more than others. Fast-forward nearly 2 years later; she flew for over 30 hours to get to where you were. It was the first time you were going to see her since 6 months ago. She wanted to hold your hands – you slapped her hand away. You said, “Hey, don’t do that. My boss might see it and it’s not professional.” After dinner, both of you went home. You said, “Baby, I’ll take you to shopping, whatever you want – just fuck me on top. I am just too tired.” She fucked you that night, on top, as you requested. A few months later, on your second year anniversary, you emailed her, “I love you, S.” She said, “I am so sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

There was this girl that loved you so much. She was just eighteen. You always introduced her as twenty-one, as you were 27 years old. Both of you went to Bali, had the best week of sex ever. Fucked three times a day – in the shower, in bed, in the pool, in Starbucks – discreetly. There was this girl who baked you the inedible cookies. There was this girl who waited for months because you were posted overseas for work. There was this girl that you wanted to go to Korea to live with you.  She said no. Seven years later, you texted her to meet for drinks. You asked her if she would sleep with you again, because you couldn’t get over her. You were seeing your long-term girlfriend for the last 4 years, you shared, but you couldn’t get the same out of her. She said, “No. I can’t believe you would even ask.” She went home, crying, thinking if she was right to have fallen for him in the first place. He was her first love.

There was this girl at work that you hired at the restaurant. Months later, you asked if she wanted to go for drinks. She said ok, since hey, you were her manager. Nothing can go wrong, right? A few shots later, you started to touch her. She said no, but you continued anyway. She took the taxi home, thinking of what she should do. You sent her lewd messages about how you wanted to fondle and touch her intimately. She showed the messages to her colleagues, but no one seemed to react much. “So why did you go out with him? Why did you drink with him?” they said. She said, “I wanted to know what it was like to drink. I didn’t ask for it.” They said, “No, you asked for it.” You finally stopped texting her, when you realized that she was telling her colleagues about you, but you felt relieved too – she didn’t go to the police.

There was this girl that you drank with. About twenty drinks later, you thought that she was drunk enough for you to take home. She smiled. You left to go to the washroom and when you came back - she was gone. You tried to call her - no reply. You texted her. Nothing. The girl just left you like that.

There was this girl. There is always this girl.