Statistically speaking, I'm quite an honest person, but when it comes to love, there have been many moments where I wasn’t entirely truthful. Especially in my first relationship. To my girlfriend, I must have seemed like someone who had dated several times before. In truth, it was my first time too, but I found it hard to admit that. I always skirted around it. Looking back, I gave pretty wise answers—but at the same time, I wonder if all that was really necessary.
There was also a strange relationship that brought the least excitement, yet the most joy. I’m not particularly attractive in terms of looks, so I rarely get approached by women—but she was different. One night, I was drinking in Itaewon with two rappers. At the time, I didn’t know they were rappers. Later I found out that they had appeared on Dingo and even had a decent fanbase. Thinking about it now, that kind of life must be tough. They had some recognition, a few notable songs, and their own distinct vibe, but they hadn’t hit the jackpot—so they were still stuck in the underground scene.
Drinking under the clear Itaewon sky on a nice day was quite enjoyable. Honestly, more than the alcohol, it was the hookah that intrigued me. I had lived my whole life not even knowing such a thing existed, and somehow ended up trying it. It was surprisingly addictive. I don’t even smoke, and I wouldn’t go out of my way to try it again, but that was a fun moment. That night, she messaged me first. She said she wanted to see me. So I left the rappers behind and went back to Gangnam.
We went to a bar in Gangnam. She said she was craving seafood pancake—haemul pajeon. The place seemed pretty popular. Even late at night, it was packed. So we had the pancake, drank some makgeolli.
She was the first woman to actively approach me, and because of that, I have a lot of fond memories with her. Once, we ended up at a totally different place because it had a similar name to our intended destination. She got really flustered. Since it took over an hour to drive there, instead of turning back, we just decided to spend time where we were. We ended up sharing a lot about our lives.
Before my first relationship, I had so many fantasies about love. But the more I live, the more I feel—it’s nothing special. Just two people who get along. Spending time together because they like each other. Sharing stories, healing old wounds, and giving each other love. It might seem like nothing much, but in the end, that might be what love is all about.
After a few of those experiences, I no longer hold grand illusions about love. Now I’m just drawn to good people. Someone with a charm I want to emulate. Someone I enjoy being with. That feels like enough.
A few nights ago, I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night—and an old memory of an ex came back to me. Her sleeping face, something I thought I’d long forgotten. Normally when I remember someone, it’s like a still image in a photo, but I remembered her with her eyes gently closed. I don’t feel anything for her now, but sharing a moment like sleep—your most vulnerable state—feels special. That’s what came to mind.
Come to think of it, one of my exes once told me she used to watch me sleep for a long time. She said it didn’t feel real. I always fell asleep first, and she would watch me quietly before falling asleep herself. Now that I think about it, I think I understand what she felt. It was probably the same feeling I had. Watching someone sleep so peacefully.
That’s why love is such a beautiful thing. People often say they want someone who will love them just as they are—but real love has to be that way. The naked body you can’t hide, the daily habits you can’t mask. Your breath might stink, you might be messier than expected, lazier than you'd like to admit. Real love completes itself when both people reveal their raw selves. And if they can still live together, that must be true love.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but now that I’ve taken a step back, I can see that those days were pretty sweet. Isn’t it funny? I used to think I was just struggling and falling apart, but somehow I was still dating, still loving, still living. When I was consumed by business and had tunnel vision about achieving success, everything else seemed far away—but taking a step back, seeing it all like a walk in the park, I realized those times were actually quite nice. I was just as biased. When things are hard, you only see the hard parts, but I too was someone who was loved. Maybe even now, I’m still receiving a lot of love without realizing it. It suddenly hit me—I wasn’t so deprived after all.