I'll tell you a bit more in just a while.
Initially, it started because Christmas means family time.
Though my Buddhist household doesn't celebrate Christmas, I would spend it with my godparents, who are family friends to my mum and aunt.
At the ripe old age of nine, I had my first sip of red wine (and actually liked it).
It was after midnight mass and my hearty Eurasian godparents thought it would be harmless to allow me a full glass for supper, which I remember clearly, was eaten with piping hot chicken curry and crispy French loaf.
Since then, I have always associated red wine and curry as comfort food.
And every Christmas Day, I would be at my godparents' place.
Their cosy flat would be filled with a steady steam of visitors: My godma's brandy-loving siblings - some of whom loud and hearty, others quietly reflective after a glass or two - as well as her extended family and lifelong friends.
And you can imagine that when a group of Eurasians gather, there would be a lot of laughing, dancing, and reminiscing.
Every year, I would be reminded that as a child, I had insisted that every one of those nicely wrapped presents at the bottom of the Christmas tree were mine, barking "no" aggressively to every other child who approached it.
And my godma would always repeat the story of me insisting on being air lifted so that I can be the one who fitted the star on their plastic Christmas tree.
At age 40, I realise just how short the Christmas tree was, my height a visual reminder of how much time has passed.
This year, my godma - who's getting really old and weak - decided she couldn't cook.
So it would be pot luck.
But she would supply brandy, the family favourite, as well as a range of alcohol including red wine, my favourite.
My other god-sibling's husband made Feng, a classic Eurasian curry featuring chopped liver, following my godma's recipe to a tee.
Meanwhile, I made potato cutlet, one of a few recipes my godma imparted to me.
And as expected, there was a lot of laughing, dancing, and reminiscing.
This year's Christmas is particularly precious to me because being away from home made me all the more appreciative of those around me.
And as with my Christmas plans for nearly the last two decades, my second half of December 25 is spent at my partner J's.
Going from one Eurasian Christmas party to another Peranakan Christmas party is no joke.
Especially for one's belly.
Weeks before the festive day, J's mum would busy herself with cooking, making every darn thing from scratch.
To show our appreciation, the family would tuck in heartily to all her dishes, which isn't a hard thing to do given that the matriarch is indeed a great cook.
But today's post, while revolving around the topic of magical Christmas, is about much more.
It's about how this time of the year has been made extra magical by one event.
December 27, 2002.
The exact date and year J and I got together.
As we enter our 18th year, I thought this might be a good time to look back on the fateful day.
We had known each other at a work setting sometime in early 2002 and really, really hit it off.
We were complete opposites of each other but we connected on an intellectual and emotional level - as friends.
And we didn't really go out one-on-one until December.
One reason was, I didn't dare ask J out 'cos he didn't come across as gay to me and I don't know how straight nerds would react to one-on-one dates.
Second reason was, even if J were indeed gay... why would he like me?
Back then, I was a plump, pimply youth with oily skin and oily hair and didn't have many achievements to my name.
He on the other hand, was about to complete his prestigious scholarship and embark on what could be potentially a bright diplomatic career ahead of him.
And while J won't exactly make heads turn at a party, he's the type you'd be drawn to the moment he starts talking to you.
Wise, attentive, kind, humble, and seriously funny.
And his boyish looks grow on you: He has nice, thick lips, eyes shaped like those of an almond, and a head of curly hair (Stanley my sex bunny friend would later point out that I am attracted to guys with curly hair given that my first boyfriend also has hair that belongs to Bozo the Clown).
J was also quite the sportsman - he was in the school hockey and football teams and later on, part of the national swim team (though he didn't compete in the end).
By October 2002, I had been regularly texting with J, talking about all things under the sun, and the inevitable happened.
The more I got to know J, the more I find myself falling for him... the J who is wise, attentive, kind, humble and seriously funny.
By November 2002, I geared our topics towards romance, trying to suss out if J were gay.
But the careful civil servant-to-be was very cautious about saying too much and that only made him sexier with the layers of mystery about that part of him.
Finally, with Stanley's encouragement, I decided to take the risk anyway.
Stanley's exact words to me were "peel off that mystery layer by layer darling... and you might be surprised with what you find in there."
In early December, I plucked up the courage to ask J out.
He said no.
But only because J grew up in a large Peranakan family, and Christmases are always busy periods for him.
But J offered the next best date to me: Two days after Christmas.
And the next best date turned my entire life around.
… To Be Continued...
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Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
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