"Next Friday, seven o’clock. The wine bar where we first met." His voice drifts from her phone speaker. I have never yet held her hand.
She Lives in the Future, I Linger in the Past
Late one March night, Hannam-dong convenience store, Seoul.
The glow of Rin’s phone flashed across her face: a calendar studded with blue dots. Most of the dots bore men’s names. Junho, Sungmin, Jaehoon… No dot for me.
Why am I spying on this moment, as though I were a thief?
Rin is the woman I want. Yet everyone knows she already has her “next person.” Each time the truth meets my eyes, something inside me quietly splinters. No one leans over to say, Wait, you deserve better than this.
The Murky Pleasure of Watching Another Man’s Calendar
Rin and I keep crossing paths on the seventh floor, in the deserted conference room. When her meeting ends and she slips in, I’m already zipping my bag, pretending I’ve just hung up with someone.
"I’ll be late tonight—eight o’clock work for you?"
"Sure, Jaehoon says…"
Before the sentence finishes, I’m in the hallway. As the door clicks shut, I mouth, Of course, Jaehoon will do nicely, and wait for the elevator.
I know nothing of Jaehoon—his cologne, his favorite vintage—yet I hate him.
I don’t hate Jaehoon.
I hate the act of her giving her hours to someone else.
Anatomy of Desire
Why are we drawn to what already belongs to another? Psychologists call it intrusive desire: the illusion that the flowers in a neighbor’s garden always bloom more vividly.
Rin carries the same illusion. The dialogues she has with other men, the places they agree to meet—I never aimed to possess her. I only wanted to feel my heart ignite each time her name appeared on another man’s schedule.
Untouchable in the Hand, Overflowing in the Eye
Thursday, 10:47 p.m. We share a taxi. Rain taps the windows; we each hold an umbrella, yet our shoulders still brush.
"Why aren’t you dating anyone?" she asks.
"Huh?"
"Love—why aren’t you in love?"
Rain streaks the glass, and I lose my answer. The person I want to be with is sitting right beside me.
The taxi stops in front of the Hannam-dong wine bar. Beneath the green neon stands Jaehoon. Rin briefly clasps my hand—0.3 seconds—and leaps out. That sliver of contact devoured the month ahead of me.
The Fragrance of Taboo
Rin has a wavering smile. When it tilts toward Jaehoon, I can’t picture her at all. When her gaze rests on him, I want her more fiercely.
That is taboo: the thing you must not do, therefore the thing you crave. Each time I glimpse her calendar, I know I soil myself. Yet the filth is as sweet as any drug.
Why Are We Drawn to This?
Psychologist Bruner wrote, "Humans covet more what another has already claimed than what they themselves lack."
Rin’s calendar is proof. The two hours, thirty minutes, five minutes she will spend with Jaehoon stretch like eternity inside me. That very length binds me to her again and again.
It isn’t Rin’s love I want.
It’s the weight of the hours she gives to another.
A Final Question
Tonight Rin will leave the wine bar with Jaehoon. Perhaps the watch he gave her will circle her wrist. I will see it and say nothing.
What about you? If the one you desire is already inked into another person’s diary, can you let go? Or will you etch every hour she gives away, in the ink of your own blood, and hoard them in secret?