Almost three years ago, James left Korea shortly after I arrived. We had mutual friends, but never met before he left. He started liking my early posts. We became friends on various social networks, interacting here and there.

Sometimes he said he’d come back to Korea. After I left Korea and returned to Portland for my Masters program, he said he’d move to the Northwest. We’d message and call each other, both discussing our toxic relationships. After we were both single, I told him I would visit him to be his “Ms. Right Now.”

Things were immediately easy at the airport, though James tried to act cool and distant as I shared silly stories of my adventures in flight. No matter how I put it, it sounds a bit odd, but I loved James before I physically met him. We had better access to each others’ brains and hearts with the hundreds of calls, text messages, and Skype sessions. Then, when we met, we both felt complete… We didn’t feel alone anymore. We both had someone who completely understood the other person.

Hand holding. Cheesin’ —literally and figuratively. Kissing and cuddling between talks about where we’d live and travel. Late night snore sessions. Dinner and date night. Me not being allowed to make anymore greyhounds because my vodka to grapefruit juice ratio is all wrong. Looking into his eyes, biting my lip. Listening to emo music. Singing the Little Mermaid soundtrack while walking around an amusement park. I baked him banana bread. He serenaded me with his guitar. Feeling déjà vu after meeting his parents, because they’re so similar to my own. Eating his mom’s creative mandoo creations. Him enjoying the mixed CD I made him. Dress up like hipsters and make fun of our exes. Virtual racing to instagram, foursquare, and tweet before the other person. Speaking Korean with shit-eating grins on our faces, like 바보야s. Him obliging my ridiculous desire to eat crappy chain-food like Sonny’s and Whataburger. Laughing. Crying. Laughing and crying at the same time. It was good as good goes.

Our backgrounds are really similar, though we grew up in opposite ends of the country. The ways we think, the emotions we feel, and the ways we act are eerily similar. I told him that I felt like he was the male version of me.

I don’t know if one can fall in love in eleven days, or if it’ll even work out (or how)… But I am love struck.