A man, a firm believer in true love, decided to wait patiently for his perfect match to appear. Yet, year after year, no one special came along.
Every Christmas, his ex-girlfriend would return from Vancouver to see him. Knowing she hoped to rekindle their romance, he did not want to mislead her. So, each visit, he would ask a different female friend to pose as his girlfriend.
For years, this charade continued. The ex-girlfriend would play along, casually teasing him about his new "girlfriends," though secretly she wept each time. Still, she returned every Christmas, hoping against hope, only to leave disappointed.
Finally, she could bear it no longer. She confronted him, professing that he was still the only man she had ever loved. Though touched, he hardened his heart and rejected her, believing she was not "the one." For three years after that, she never returned, and they lost contact. He continued his search, yet deep down, he missed her.
At a Christmas party in 1995, a friend's question about the "Vancouver girl" stirred something in him. Later, a tipsy former pretend-girlfriend asked, "Don't you need someone to pose as your girlfriend this year?"
"No," he replied, "there is no need for that anymore..."
"Oh!" she interrupted. "You must have found a girlfriend! You haven't been searching for one these past years, right?"
Her words struck him like lightning. "Yes... you are right!" he exclaimed, his face beaming. He suddenly realized the truth: he had stopped looking for anyone else the moment she stopped coming back. He wasn't seeking a specific person, but an ideal—perfection. And she was his perfection. He had found his dream girl all along—the one from Vancouver.
Overwhelmed with regret and fear of losing her forever, he rushed to call her overseas. After many attempts, he got through precisely at midnight on Christmas Eve. He confessed his love, and she, still waiting for him, was moved to tears. Ecstatic, he planned to fly to Vancouver to start their new life together.
But their joy was tragically short-lived. Two days before his flight, he received a call from her father. She had been in a head-on collision with a drunk driver and, after six hours in a coma, passed away.
Devastated, he was consumed by loss. He cursed fate for its cruelty, for denying him even a final glimpse. Most of all, he hated himself for taking so long to see what had always been there.