To mementos that we collect along the way.

I am parked outside of Sean and Phong’s apartment. I was confident on the drive here, in my resolve, in my decision to come. But now, now I am nervous for some reason. A part of me wants to chicken out, to turn the key, to drive back home, to where it’s safe, to where it’s quiet. But I’ve been looking forward to seeing them all week, so I muster the strength, send Sean a text: I’m here.

I think I am nervous because I don’t know how we’ll connect—

the three of us—

since we’ve never really spoken, not in any real sense. It could go either way, I suppose.

Sean appears, walking toward my car, his smile warm, his presence grounding. He gets in, and we kiss. Immediately. Intimately. Gently. I feel at ease, and I realize just how much I miss his kiss. His hand finds mine, and we hold each other there, and I’m confused. Isn’t this what lovers do? And Sean is in a relationship. But I don’t overthink, not now. I let the moment be what it is. I take everything in, I enjoy this, I enjoy us.

After a while, he directs me to the carpark, and we take the elevator to his floor.

Phong isn’t home yet. It’s just Sean and me, the two of us in his apartment. We kiss again, for a long while, before breaking for mango smoothies in the living room. His space is crowded, cluttered, filled with hundreds of things. My attention drifts to the shelves behind me, rows upon rows of monuments and knickknacks. Dozens of tiny souvenirs from across the world. Their travels, history, displayed for anyone to see.

When Phong arrives, I walk up to greet him. We kiss. Sean joins, and now all three of us are there, standing, kissing, holding each other. It feels nice. Then we separate, settle into our own chairs, and start talking, small at first, easing into the night.

At one point, I feel it. Sadness. A pang, sharp and sudden. I don’t understand it then, not until later, when I’m at home, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Twelve years. They’ve been together for twelve years.

That explains the full shelves.

That explains the weight in the air.

That explains the pang.

I think part of my sadness is knowing that they already have a history, a rich, full history, and I don’t know what my part is in their story now. Am I just a supporting character, just a footnote? Am I just here to fulfill a need, a physical desire?

It reminds me of what I want, what I’m searching for. A relationship like theirs. Something deep. Something lasting. Something that spans a decade, two, more.

And yet, I wonder—

can their bond leave room for me?

can I carve out a space for myself in their lives?

Sean feels different. With Sean, there’s spiritual, emotional, and something that goes beyond the physical. But with Phong? With Phong, it’s just physical, surface-level, fleeting. And I see the balance Sean is trying to maintain, the delicate balance between loving, caring, being with Phong, and connecting with me.

But I know, deep down, Phong comes first. Always.

There’s a ceiling here, an emotional limit, and when I hit it, when I reach that point, I’ll have to decide—do I keep going? Do I let myself fall?

Because falling for someone who can’t catch you—

falling for someone who can only care for you as a friend—

never ends well.

So I think about my future, about what I need, about what I want. Emotional connection, that’s it. That’s the key. Physical attraction matters, yes, but without that emotional depth, it’s just not enough.

It’s rare to find both. Rare to see a perfect blend of physical and intellectual. But it’s not impossible. And that’s what I’m searching for. That’s what I’ll strive for.

Over the next twelve months, I’ll put myself out there, I’ll connect with people, I’ll open myself up to the possibility of something real, something lasting, something worth holding onto.

What an adventure it will be.