To say the first impression was bad would be an understatement. To be honest, the day of that blind date. The moment I saw you, the only thing I thought was, 'Why did I agree to do something so bothersome?' Of all places, the restaurant we met at was a shabby, poorly ventilated meat joint, and as if we were trying to spite each other, we both went out of our way to eat meat with garlic wraps.

We didn't care about the smell or anything. Well, we didn't have any intention of making a good impression in the first place. When you finished every last grain of rice, I just thought, 'I guess that's that.' Without even realizing there were red pepper flakes stuck to our mouths, we had zero expectations for each other.

I had no intention of asking for a second date after the blind date ended. But before I knew it, the glasses were refilled again and again, and words—whether jokes or sincere, I couldn't tell—spread across the table.

Was it the alcohol, or just the atmosphere?

In the end, we rode the cold dawn air into a strange motel room.

I thought you were someone I'd never see again, but somehow that night repeated itself, and the relationship that started like that has now reached its 9th year.

Strangely enough, you and I clicked better than I thought. We were quick to pick up on things even without talking, especially in bed. There was no need for words. I realized what your body wanted, and I reacted immediately to your touch.

It's not so much that we know each other, but that we've just become accustomed. It was more like a habit ingrained through repetition.

We got jobs, and at some point, we started living together. Living together was strange and awkward at first, but as time passed, everything loosened up within the familiarity.

I remember how you used to be shy and close the door when you went to the bathroom. I still occasionally think about how you'd turn bright red, being embarrassed over something so trivial.