I couldn’t think of a more perfect way to spend lunch on Tuesday, than meeting a favourite person, at my favourite London museum.
One of the best things about living in London is that everyone passes through. You’re not quite allowed to leave Singapore behind.
So the Childhood (male) Bestie is in town. I’ve known him since I was 14. During those tumultuous teenage years, he was just always there- at ballet class, backstage at performances, parties on Saturday nights, and then at church the day after. When it was time to get married, he was the one I trusted most, to help orchestrate the actual day.
We can talk about anything and everything. Today he says- I find myself sharing stuff that I don’t share with anyone else, because I know there’s no judgement.
What is it about Childhood Besties that make you feel so rich and buffered? Perhaps the lack of having to explain, for starters. The unquestioned loyalty, no matter what.
And then the freedom to just say exactly what is on your mind without editing, even if your thoughts don’t quite make sense. Or is that by speaking out loud, the Childhood Bestie then helps organise thoughts into a more coherent structure?
For example, I say- You are really in the best years of your life, as a man. Going into the 50s, you are heading to your best decade.
I also say- As a woman, I am in my best decade now. After which, I become, invisible.
He agreed nodding, For women, it’s different.
I nod back.
It’s the sort of thing I’ve not said out loud before, for fear of being, stoned.
We cross Trafalgar Square, my heart soars, thinking of how far we each have journeyed.
He is an intelligent man with a big, kind heart. He’s great with people, a natural leader, too smart, too creative, too energetic, to not initiate and jump into the thick of things.
Do you believe in karma, Tam?
I believe… I also believe some are born under luckier stars, and you my friend, are one of them.