1. the mystery of my life
Posted March 25, 2014on:
i know what is is
tell me what isn’t
the end wouldn’t go where I put
the beginning wouldn’t be itself done
and life treads softly under my callused feet
if they weren’t here
we might’ve had fun
— I live with what is
one of the things that frustrates me to no end is this: half of my love story is missing. It has been missing earnestly for the last 10 years, with no promise of discovery in sight. That I had spent a good 4 years of my youth chasing after this guy in one epic conquest, ending with a shotgun wedding – because I won a bet and got to name my prize – wasn’t an easy matter.
That I alone dominated the whole courtship process – which on one hand doesn’t bother me because I enjoyed the hunt, but then on the other hand, my pride still feels somewhat chaffed because when I was devouring one Chiung-Yao novel after another at age 15, nowhere in my mind would I have imagined that I would have had to do all of the work. It would have been very helpful if I were simply rewarded with all the answers. But he would not tell me about it no matter how hard I’ve tried to get it out of him.
Have you ever been curious about which moment your man fell for you? Do you have a long list of questions for him like “what was it that got your attention?” “what did you like about me?” “what physical trait on me you find the most attractive?” etc. etc..? I have a long list of things I want to know. I had worked so hard during those 4 years, hoping that someday I would get some feedbacks to soothe my ego… For all my reckless pursuits and all-or-nothing bets, I succeeded in securing his heart, we live happily ever after, have kids, grow older… I know and I feel that he loves me without any doubts. He says it and he shows it. When we had to take a marriage preparation class four years after we were married, as part of a church wedding requirement, one of the things we had to do in that class was to write a love letter to each other. While I was busy goofing off and giggling over my nonsense scribbles, he actually wrote me one. Crazy bastard. And here I’m going batty about the other missing half of my love story 10 years later. He just refuses to talk about it.
The other day we were reminiscing some of our history together for some reason, and he chuckled, saying, “Ours is an interesting history, that’s for sure.” Ever hopeful, I perked right up and attempted to probe for some answers, but he just immediately clammed up and went back to plucking his chicken or godknowswhat he was doing at that moment because he surely didn’t respond to my inquiries hence i lost all interests and didn’t register further information into my memory bank.
So, ours is an interesting herstory indeed. You will only hear it from me.
Because the other half is up his fine ass somewhere and he won’t give.