The best nonplatonic hangout I've been on

 I told this to a bunch of people in NYC last weekend, actually have told over dozens of peoples. Now that the water's under the bridge, and there's no hope left here for me, this is a story worth telling.

I'd been talking to J for a few months before I went to Singapore. I'll be there I told her, and I want to see you and take you out on a dinner date. Date date, I said, as in I'm interested in you, not in a random person meetup. It's okay if you're creeped out. She was like, meh, don't care, I'm strong enough to protect from creeps the likes of you.

When we met it was strange times. Her company was building shelters for tens of thousands of people from the covid, and she was super duper busy. Everywhere in Singapore people were spooked about the cases of the virus that had been popping here and there, hiding for a couple of weeks and then striking again.

We went to a fish place, I don't eat fish but for an amazing and cute woman, why not. We spent three hours talking, getting caught up on the wedding, our lives, our future plans, festivals, siblings, how we think many things are stupid, why she's single, etcetera etcetera. When we were done she asked me for my credit card, since I'd been insisting throughout that it was going to be my treat. She took it with her as I packed my bags. And then hid my credit card. She paid with her, she wanted my card so she could disable me. Oooof. So hot.

We spent the next two hours in the mall, I bought her all the things for the valentine's day that was a week away at the point. We went to a grocery store and just ambled about. Talked about what we like to eat and cook, and buy in the markets. She told me about her parents, and how her dad was, what her mom like to do, and how she didn't want any oranges anymore because they had four boxes still lying around from the Chinese new year's eve and she couldn't drink orange juice in the morning anymore. Do you want any oranges, you, she asked.

I'm not a very emotionally carried away person, not generally. That afternoon, if she'd asked me to marry, or if I had not been sober and asked her to marry and she'd said yes, I'd have married her the day after, no questions asked. I'd have dealt with the repercussions, the implications, later. Because it didn't matter. She'd taken my heart away.

We talked for a couple of more months. She got very busy, I was travelling around and then gloomy because of the disease. I stopped texting, she stopped replying. And now we've stopped talking. It's all for the better. At least I've got no hopes there. Hope is what kills, really.