Dear Love of My Life,

I’ve been living in Vancouver for the past three years, so here’s where you can find me for now. But hurry up, as I don’t know how long I will be here for. My life has been a thrill so far, but I’m assuming that whatever is next will be as exciting. What can I tell you about me? I lived, so far, in four different cities in two different countries, on two separate continents. I would say that makes me open-minded, adaptable, curious, adventurous, and a bit crazy … I love writing, so much so that I am typing this letter on an old typewriter, one that I would love to take home. One day, Love of My Life, you will see my name on the cover of a book I will write about my life. Maybe even this letter will be a part of that book. I also love reading. I read all sorts of books, but mostly sci-fi and contemporary fiction. Living in Vancouver made me love hot yoga, swimming, running, and other outdoorsy stuff. I am also learning how to be a bit more open-minded about other ethnic foods. It’s going slowly, but I am making some progress. Vancouver also taught me how to love dogs. And how to simplify my life. One day, I will live in my own tiny house somewhere. It will have a loft, with a big bed, a cosy living room, a small kitchen, a veggie garden, and of course a reading room/spot. Maybe I see a dog in my future, not sure yet. It will be a Cocker Spaniel, not yet named. And it will have you as well, the most important (and enjoyable) part of the mix. You will be my partner, my friend, my rock, my pillow, my faith, my spirit, my mirror. And I, yours. We will travel together, I will show you my home country one day, and afterwards we will explore everything else together; one day we will go to Mexico or to the Seychelles together. Then after, we can go to New York, or London, or Paris. Oh, and I want to see the pyramids in Egypt once in my lifetime. Something to do with Stargate, you’ll understand eventually what I’m talking about. I have a favour to ask you: could you maybe teach me how to ski? I can’t believe that I have lived in Canada for almost 10 years now, and still don’t know how to ski. You know how, don’t you?

So, here I am, waiting for you. I know that you are on your way and I am happy to be patient for a little bit longer for you to tell me “I love you, and I cannot imagine living my life without you from now on”. You know where to find me, I’ll make sure I put a return address on the envelope (or maybe I should just stick to an email address?)

Anyway, come into my life, make me whole again, just like the song.

Looking forward to meeting you and to spending the rest of my life getting to know you better and vice-versa. There’s lots to things I want to know about you: where did you grow up, when did you decide to do something important with your life, what do you like, what do you hate, why, where are you coming from, where are you going. We’ve got lots of time.

Yours (and I mean truly),


Good-bye Mr. B,

You’ve been a part of my thoughts for so long that I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t think of you. Are you the love of my life? I hope not. I thought, sincerely, fiercely, throughout my life, that the love of my life will be mutual. Isn’t that the definition of one’s love of their life?

I remember everything. I remember your touch, your words, your text messages, your voice as it sounds over the phone, different from the one over Skype, and different from the one in person. I remember the first time we met. I remember what I was wearing and, a couple of months ago, when I gave up on holding on to those black skinny pants from H&M, I thought of you, of course. I remember our first kiss and how I left my umbrella in the cab on the way over to your hotel one rainy night in Montreal. Rain has been a constant in our relationship. Rain and my feelings for you. I remember our New Year’s 2010 spent relatively together via text messages, each in front of a fire place, saying “I love you” more times that I can remember, hoping for a great year together.

In the beginning I was amazed how you can possibly think that I am attractive, considering how attractive you were/are. I was baffled about the attention that I was receiving from you, about the interest you showed in me. I guess now I can say that my vision was clouded. Love is blind, isn’t it? Love makes you close your eyes to things that you just don’t want to see. And then, when finally you start seeing some things that you didn’t want to see, you start talking yourself into believing that they are not real, that it is your reality that’s real and perfect, and just the way you wanted it.

Of course I remember my first visit to Vancouver during the Winter Olympics 2010. I remember the perfect weather, the perfect time we had, the perfect Italian restaurant in Steveston that we went to for my birthday, the perfect drive to Whistler, the perfect you, the perfect everything. If I wasn’t already falling for you at that point, I would have had started it then, for sure.

But I also remember my decision to move to Vancouver less than a month later, in spite of all my friends (and without my family even knowing it!) disapproval looks, talks, emails, etc. No matter, as my mind was made up. High on endorphins, I guess. So here I was, packing my life, once again, in two pieces of luggage, buying a one-way ticket further West, and getting on a plane to live with you, Mr. B. I truly believed in your forever. And, to be fair, I believe that, at the time, you believed in it too.

What I don’t want to remember, but still do, are the fights, the nagging, the disagreements, the difficulty of making plans together, “my” job quitting. Don’t get me wrong, I also remember all and each of the great times we’ve had together, and right now it is still very difficult to find a place in and around Vancouver that does not remind me of you somehow. I remember Pemberton, Bowen Island, Victoria, Whistler, Grouse Christmas Village, and so much more. I remember being a friend, a step-mom, a dog-owner, a cook, a girl-friend, and everything in between with you. I was so much when I was with you. I would dare to say that I lived much more during the time we were together that it actually lasted. And, as much as I would love to believe that it has been forever since I’ve known you, we have been together, really, for a little more than one year only. This is my own personal proof to support Einstein’s theory of relativity.

I thought I was ready to say good-bye to you a long time ago. I thought that moving out of the house we shared will do the trick. It didn’t. I thought that dating someone else for a while will do the trick. It didn’t. I thought that you dating someone else (more than once) will do the trick. It didn’t. I thought that you ignoring me for periods of time will do the trick once and for all. I guess it didn’t.

So here it is, my last resort, a letter of closure, a letter of saying good-bye to you, even if it’s unsent.

Good-bye, Mr. B, with all my heart still. Maybe one day.