Forever. Eternal. Immortal. Endless. Always. Everlasting. Infinite.

How do you measure a love that lasts for all time? Would the number of years, months, weeks, days, hours, and seconds constitute the final definition? If someone were to ask you, how would you describe an epic love story? Which couple would exemplify what you have in mind?

I’ve often wondered about those questions, but I never really made an effort to search for the answers. It just came in naturally. Three hundred sixty five days, eight thousand seven hundred sixty hours, and five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes was all the time I had to figure it all out.

It would never be enough and I still feel that we deserved more than the time we were given. However, this is our infinity, and regardless of how things turned out, I can look back and proudly say that not a second was put to waste.

All it took to have that epic love story I’ve always dreamed of, was to solve a simple equation: Y + M = I. But before I tell you what it means and how I got to solve the mystery, let me first tell you about our story.

 It all started with a death, a blind date, and a bet. You’ll probably laugh, smile, and perhaps, even cry…

You've been warned. 

 “Unnie, how can you ditch him again?! This is like, what? The fifteenth time you did that this month?!” Krystal asked as soon as she heard about my recent no-show on that blind date.

“I appreciate all your concerns about my non-existent love life and I acknowledge all the effort…” I wasn’t even finished speaking when the rest of my unnies interrupted my speech.

“If you acknowledged it, the least you could’ve done was to show up!” Yoona unnie said.

“Waiting for the most ridiculous excuse in 3…2….1…” Sooyoung unnie started that countdown.

“I still don’t get why she refuses to meet the guy.” I heard Sunny unnie asked a very confused and bored Hyoyeon unnie.

“Uh, maybe because none of us met him too?” Yuri unnie piped in.

“I met him already. He’s a hottie!” Tiffany unnie exclaimed excitedly.

“Unnie! You already have a boyfriend!” Krystal chimed.

“I know. It’s not like I’d trade him for my Thai Prince. I’m just saying that so Hyunnie would stop chickening out by thinking he’s some old psycho ert, which, he obviously isn’t.” Fany unnie responded coolly. She then turned to me and said,

“He’s a great guy, maknae. I can totally picture you two together! You’d make such a beautiful and cute couple!”

“UNNIE!” I said, feeling exasperated. I chugged down my third bottle of water and slumped in the sofa, my face hidden by my hands.

For the past two years and sixteen days, my unnies, and most especially Sica unnie’s sister, Krystal, kept nagging me to meet this guy. I made up every excuse possible just to avoid these blind dates. I felt guilty every time I ditched him, and most especially when I found out that he showed up in each and every one of those meetings our mutual friends would set up.

It’s not that I dislike guys or have been burned by love. In fact, I’ve never been in one (a romantic relationship), or in love. Yeah, I’ve had a few crushes here and there. Dated for a while and tried to go and meet people. There were some guys I thought could’ve been my Mr. Right; but somewhere along the “getting to know you” process, there’s a warning sign or two, that would make me halt, and just retreat before the relationship progressed to something deeper.

Every time I thought of just jumping into the dating bandwagon to relieve myself of the endless nagging and pressure of being in a relationship (the whole, “You’re _ years old and you still don’t have a boyfriend?!” “Maybe you should stop being picky and start meeting real people” interrogation was never a pleasant experience), I’d always remember the reason I held out in the first place: I wanted an epic love story – the one that those sappy and clichéd rom com movies or chick flicks have. The one like Serendipity, If Only, The Notebook, or something as cute as A Cinderella Story or 10 Things I Hate About You.

Yes, I’m that kind of girl and I see no reason to be ashamed of it. So what if I’m a hopeless romantic? It wouldn’t hurt to dre