I have four coming over: Two of my grandparents on either side of me, God in front of me, and my long-lost first love sitting a little behind God. Now we're all set.

But all five of us will shun food for something on the rocks. I see us asking the bartender for salt, lemon wedges and a bottle of tequila.

I believe God and my grandparents will get along, so I'll tell them I'll get back to them in a while, because I have a lot of catching-up to do with my long-lost first love (we'll call him Mick). He owes me an answer to a question: "Why did you never like me?"

Twelve years ago I first glimpsed Mick on a train, miles from my home to Chiang Mai. I remember this skinny, long-haired guy walking by. "I want to know him," I whispered to a friend.

I remember it clearly - to a 17-year-old, it was love at the first sight.

Within a few weeks, we were "related". The school had assigned him to take care of me throughout my freshman year, "like a brother". I was supposed to look up to him and be his little sister. But I believed the arrangement wouldn't last.

Lots of my friends didn't understand what I saw in the guy. They only saw this no-future loser who would never even graduate. They felt he was harmful, stupid, and had nothing to offer.

But to a young me, I saw this cool personality, a rock drummer who was living his dream. I saw motivation, ambition and charm all in one person. He was perfect.

Mick and I spent quite a lot of time together. I took several trips with him, went to bars with him, even hung out at the most boring places with him. I hoped things would develop, that Mick would see what he had in me and come around.

Years had passed I realised that we'd made no progress. I wanted to be more than just a sister, but he'd always wanted to be a brother. On Fridays he'd ask me to hang out with him and his latest girlfriend.

"You're my sister and I trust you with all my heart." Mick said. "That's why I always want you to be the first to get to know my girlfriends."

I cried him a river. My feelings towards him were becoming more intense, but still I hesitated to press the matter. I was too afraid to ask. I was afraid to lose him, to be exact. So I started dating a few guys to keep my mind off him, hoping to forget. It didn't help.

Again, I was only 17.

I kept thinking about Mick until graduation, then decided to move on. This time I really forgot about him. I continued dating and found just the right guy for me.

It's been more than 12 years. I'm glad he didn't like me and we never dated back then. Fitting him into my life now would be impossible. I'm glad my heart once was broken.

But I still have that question - the question I wish I had asked back then. I wish I could have. But I know I will never get to ask it now.

That's why I'd like to invite him to a dinner with God and my grandparents. I know Mick would also fit in.

My grandparents are dead - and so is he.

I just learned from a friend two weeks ago. My long-lost first love died of a drug overdose.

Mick was 32, still a drummer, still single, and still owing me an answer.

Comments on this column can be sent to relations@nationgroup.com.