To my perpetual muse.

I still remember the first time I saw you.

It was thousands of days ago when all 3 of us boys got the call that your sister was bringing 'a friend' and us being boys, speculated on how hot you'd be.

We were all faaar from disappointed. We still remember the green thong, the cool yet funny charisma, the long flowing hair, the sexy tattoos. On some occasions, we still talk about you, and how each of us made a fool out of ourselves in front of you.

Growing up as a hopeless boy with a massive crush on you I did plenty of stupid things that I can remember. Writing that story about how big your boobs were and trying to come up with our own 'song', sending you those flirty messages at 8am in the morning, bringing those 'kiddie girls' to go out clubbing with you - at each juncture you could've been every other girl and dismissed me and left, but you never did. I can imagine you just shaking your head and smirking and saying "boys will be boys," and then still keeping in touch.

At this point I can close my eyes and random bits and pieces of memories, (ones I know you won't be able to remember) come trickling back in. That talk we had about drugs, about girls and body language. That night I sent you home drunk and puking, and then me delivering the keys to you the next day while you were having a hangover at work. You sitting at the passenger seat of my car with your legs hunched up telling me why you'd have to turn me down, while smoking your cigarette, nestling it gently between your two index fingers.

I remember you being unbelievably hot just doing that.

The funny posts you had on your shared blog, the karaoke sessions. That night the HUGE fat dude tried to pick you up and you had to flick the finger to tell him off. Another thing I remembered that I loved doing while I was out with you was checking out other guys checking you out.

It made me feel like the coolest guy on earth doing that.

They say that 'Love at first sight' doesn't exist, but I still feel the same way about you now, several years later after I first saw you. There's still that desire to just put my arm around you and pull you close and just kissing you, but at the same time, there's also that boyish hesitation.

You've always called yourself my older sister, and for the longest time I've rejected that notion. After all, you don't normally want to kiss your older sister, but now thinking back, if I did have an older sister, I'd like her to be exactly like you.

And now you're getting married to FB, and again, there's that boyish voice in my head being bitter. But it's been a while since we've met, and this boy has grown up a bit. If you can picture me with a slight smirk and just a hint of resentment in my eyes saying, "Congratulations Diana, I'm happy for you," then you would've known everything I've wanted to say already.

And I really do mean it.

Have a great one, my perpetual muse. And don't you dare slip out of touch.

p/s: Maybe his new nickname should be F.H eh? Lol.