Comfort Zone
Dear Peter,
As you know, I used to work out at 6AM at our clubhouse gym. At that ungodly hour, there were normally around three others present at most. On one particular morning, your father happened to be one of those three. He came in early to do some cardio, and was very surprised to see me there. When I went over to greet him, your father grabbed me by the hand and the first thing he asked was how you were doing. He knew we were always out together, sometimes not coming back until early mornings. After a short talk, he thanked me for being your friend and for bringing you out of your comfort zone. I corrected your father that in fact, I was the one who was grateful for our friendship, for you were the one who continuously brought me out of my comfort zone.
I still remember the first time we met. You were in a V-neck t-shirt that was so deep it almost went all the way down to your belly button. I noticed instantly that you were Awoo’s brother given the resemblance (the Woo genes are too strong). I immediately texted Awoo telling him: “Dude I saw a super flamboyant version of you”. On which Awoo replied: “Lol yea that’s Peter”. We then met again during dance rehearsal for Awoo’s wedding. In the practice room, Awoo put on PSY’s song, “Gentlemen”, and told us to thrust our hips, imitating the dance in the music video. Everyone was too shy to start dancing. We were not used to dancing in the presence of others in front of a giant mirror. That’s when you took the spotlight. You thrusted your hips side to side in such an exaggerated manner that we couldn’t help but start laughing. As we complimented that you would probably make a great stripper, you began twerking to further lighten our mood. Afterwards, everyone was relaxed and started to dance freely.
You always had possessed the ability to lead people out of their comfort zones with ease. You were extremely confident, never had an issue wearing exaggerated clothing, nor cared other people’s opinion about you. Like many others, I was drawn to your exceptionally adventurous spirit and charisma, and as a result, we started hanging out more.
I remember that around 2015, “preppy” fashion was gaining traction. I was never one for dressing up, as I always prioritised comfort over appearance. In retrospect, these lead me to some very questionable fashion choices. I remember going out one night in my signature getup: my cargo shorts (I love the pockets, so many pockets to put things in), sandals with socks (I wanted to wear sandals but didn’t want to get my feet dirty) and my plain grey t-shirt that was so worn out there were holes everywhere). You never hesitated to question me about my fashion choices, telling me I made his (flamboyant) style look very weird in comparison. On that particular night, you introduced me to two of your preppy Korean friends who were in slick blazers, buttoned down shirts and boat shoes. They both started laughing at what I was wearing. You defended me and told them: “At least he has his own fashion style and is proud of it.” What you said there resonated with me. You taught me that I should not be ashamed of my own choices, but instead be proud of who I am, which was exactly how you lived your life.
As we started to hang out more frequently, you got increasingly annoyed at how I liked to spend my nights, as it was the same pattern every time. I was never adventurous like you were. Instead, I was very shy and reserved. Our nights consisted of us visiting my favourite bar, where we would just chat until we were both sufficiently drunk. Afterwards we’ll get food and go home. So you started suggesting that we visit different places. I was strongly against your ideas; I didn’t enjoy leaving my comfort zone at all. Yet you were adamant that I should explore what Hong Kong, and life, had to offer.
During this process, it helped me create many fond memories. Memories of us making fools of ourselves at open mic karaoke nights, with me screaming out songs in attempt to match your perfect pitch. Memories of us visiting the rare hip hop clubs and dancing (though for me it was more like flailing my hands around) on empty dance floors. You would take me with you to crash random people’s birthday parties. You would always encourage me to befriend strangers, instead of sitting a corner nodding along with the music. You also took me to unknown restaurants, to try out what they had to offer. You taught me not to trust Openrice reviews, and to just visit places with an open mind. The few years we spent hanging out together gave me some of the best memories of my life, and it has helped me immensely in boosting my own self confidence.
But like most things surrounding alcohol, our story didn’t have a good ending. As I grew increasingly dependent on alcohol, it started to affect my life and relationships at a negative manner. The month before I decided to quit drinking, I told you that I need to cut you out of my life in order for me to recover. You accepted my decision with a smile, and that was it. We never talked again. I un-followed you on all social media platforms and I treated it as if you never existed in my life.
As I resolved my own issues, I realized that I was the only one to blame for my own problems. I imagined making amends with you, but felt too ashamed in actually doing so. But I always assumed there was ample time to do so. During the past few years, I imagined we’d meet each other again at a mutual friend’s wedding, at which point you would give me a slight nod to acknowledge that I’m there, and I’d return a nod. You, with your big heart, would then no doubt approach me and break the ice. I would’ve shown to you that I was no longer the obnoxious whiny drunk I once was, and that I have matured. I would’ve shown you that I have taken more control of my life now (except my weight, I’d imagine you roasting me mercilessly about my weight). You would ask me to go out and have a smoke break with you, at which point I would proudly show you that I have completely stopped smoking. We would then hang out as we always have, and you would tell me about your failed tinder conquests. We would make fun of each other (remember for a while you introduced yourself as 태풍 to women?), reminisce about our many adventures we had, and ultimately, I would have a chance in saying goodbye to you. And that would be it. We would then go on with our lives again, without me having the painful regret of cutting you out of my life.
After receiving the shocking news of your passing, I searched for your social media again. I found out that you never stopped following me. I am sorry Peter, for not having been there for you the past few years. I am filled with sadness and regret, knowing that I can never talk to you anymore or to make amends. I wish that I could tell you, that you have left such a positive influence in my life, and how much I appreciated you. I want to let you know, I will always remember you and the times we shared.
From your friend,
Dougy
