Sunday, June 18, 2017

Marriage Diaries #4: Will I Make the Same Mistakes?

My husband hates talking about his past relationships, but mostly because of his immediate ex whom he’s direly ashamed of.

When prodded for details, he always tries to shut me up with “Being with Iman was the biggest mistake of my life, I really don’t want to relive it.”

I would never let him off that easy, though, and my questions, barraging torrentially at him, has to be answered.

It’s unhealthy, I know, but curiousity gets the better of me every time. My own past relationship I have dissected, analysed and studied to exhaustion. My neurotransmitters have possibly fried from the frequent synapses from trying to find the answers to: “What did I see in him? Why did we last as long as we did? Does my relationship with Faris construe an emotionally abusive relationship?”

My husband has had a few exes, and the details and chronology of girls have always piqued my interest.

I will tell you why. But first, a relevant preface: My husband is a particularly introverted person.

His first two exes were intelligent and sweet-mannered girls, one of whom I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. They were from elite schools and graduated as a chemical engineer and a houseman, both under scholarships.

And then came Iman, the third, who was relatively physically unattractive compared to the two, bimbotic (a mass comm student because of a limited capacity to dabble within the fields of science, and studies paid privately by her rich family) and a “party girl” as is often described, with a series of men she’s slept with.

Since my talent has always been in graphical description of things, I’ll describe her here. I promise to be objective, heh.

Her small eyes sits atop a chubby-ish face that’s covered with “birthmarks’, or rather, a myriad of differently coloured and shaped splotches. Her face painting skills are notable however, to the extent that she shifts from an unfortunate 4, to a convincing 6.5 (a 7 might be too generous). Her teeth are jagged rocks in dire need of braces, tinted yellow as a result from a chronic smoking habit. She’s particularly tall and her body, svelte. Despite her traditionally unfortunate features, her bubbly and fun-loving personality evinces a rather attractive girl whom would sweep you off your feet from her sheer exuberance alone.  

It was with Iman that my husband got his exposure to “an extrovert’s world” and partook in activities that he now loathes to relive. He partied, drank and immersed himself in the world of TV-worthy dramas; “Omg my friend had a one-night stand on her boyfriend’s bed and he found out because of the sex stains and (haphazardly discarded) used condom!”.

That was Iman’s world, and it also became his.

When he relayed me these details, my mind couldn’t stop its cogs from turning.

He’s a highly rational person, so what caused his lapse of judgement? Will I ever experience the same?

He utterly despises social activities of any sort, so how did he survive the multitude of events and gatherings for almost a year? My husband would rather gouge his eyeballs out with a rusty nail rather than banter with a group of more than 2 people.

Was it curiousity? Was in insanity? Was in hard-hitting infatuation?

In the here and now, he doesn’t want to do anything that doesn’t involve intimate moments together at home. We game, cuddle, have 3 hour talks, and watch movies from my list of favourite classics. If either of us forces the other to attend a social obligation more than once a month, we’d start having divorce attorneys on speed dial.

I guess, what really puzzles me is; 

How did he, during that short one or two-year stint, become such a different person?

It terrifies me to no end, because, you see, him and I are together because we are so much alike, and that works for us.

If he could become a different person (whom eventually found himself again) and termed it, regrettably, a “confusing phase of my life”…


Will my turn ever, god forbid, come?

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Marriage Diaries #3: Shower Thoughts

My internal body clock has my eyes wide open by 7am, despite how lethargic I felt the night before or how hard I crashed the moment my head hits the pillow.

At 7am today, he was still fast asleep. I made minimal, barely noticeable movements to extricate myself from the arms that encircled me. Almost always, and always subconsciously, he would realise than I’m getting up and he would pull me back, hold me tighter and lock me in place.

I would always have to call his name in a whisper until his eyes, half-lidded and bleary, acknowledges the silent plea in mine to loosen the iron hold he has on me.

I showered the moment I managed to get out of bed, and as usual, got lost in thought while I lathered and rinsed under the therapeutic, lukewarm water.

When I was done, hair dripping wet and towel completely soaked, I jumped into bed and as usual, started talking to him despite knowing that it was too early for his internal body block.

“Baby, I had a shower thought.”

“Mmm?” He grunted, smiled and extended his arms, beckoning me to lie with him. He cringed slightly when my wet hair touched his skin.

“I’m still a bit wet sorry.”

“You don’t say?”

“Can I share my shower thoughts with you please please please?”

“I’d love to hear it”. He hugged me with both arms and I found myself talking to his chest.

“You’re aging faster than I am.”

He pulled back slightly, looked at me with lucid eyes and furrowed brows, and said, “What?”

“You’re aging faster. Because you’re taller, and that makes you bigger. At least, vertically bigger. And that means you have a bigger surface area. And you know how our cells regenerate, before the ability to regenerate slowly degrades, and that is how we scientifically age? Because you have a wider surface area, you regenerate at a higher magnitude, which also accelerates the degradation of your ability to regenerate. So technically, you age faster.”

“…Okay.”

“But then it’s okay because your skin is like, black, which means you have more melanin, which is the body’s natural mechanism against external aging factors, like the sun. So, it balances things out.”

“…Sure.”

“So in essence, you and I will age at approximately the same rate! Isn’t that great?!”

“Wait. Did you call me black?”


Sunday, March 19, 2017

Marriages Diaries #2: Are you disturbed?

I find it amusing how people mistake my mother in law as my actual mother on account of how I look more similar to her than her actual son.
I also find it amusing that I share a lot of my father in law's characteristics such that I find it effortless to bond with that old man. We're also similar in terms of carelessness, values and opinions on the world.
So basically, my dear husband married someone who looks like his mom but acts like his dad.
Disturbing much.

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Marriage Diaries: Post #1

Honestly, I miss writing. Let’s try again shall we?

Marriage Life – Diary #1

I’ve been married for slightly over two months now to this dude. He’s really, really good looking and if I were to be honest with myself, I was basically persuaded to tie the nuptial knot thanks to those chiselled features and that toned body of his (“muskels”).

He could be an asshole for all I cared and treated me like dirt but just a flash of those pearly whites and some little flexing and I’d be flying in his arms asking for more domestic abuse.

In all seriousness though, managed to bag a good looking dude who’s really smart, caring and compassionate. So yeah. Hashtag win.

But again, if I were to be honest with myself, I’m not the best wife. I’m calculative (it’s the accountant/audit background, I swear), selfish, only sometimes considerate if I happen to have a brain aneurysm on that day, and I’m very, very petty on certain things.

If I hear even the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice due to something I did that was legitimately annoying, I’d reciprocate by being even more annoyed that he got annoyed.

If he forgets, even for one minute, to help me with my office bags, I’d rebel by refusing to give him the bag when he remembers and saying things like “It’s okay, I’ve managed my expectations” and “Can’t always rely you for things anymore, can I?”

A grade-A bitch, right?

And how does he react to all this? He apologises, tries to make me smile and makes sure that on the days I act like this, before we sleep, he does something that warms my heart and he cuddles me a bit more securely than usual.

If I’m still adamant about being upset over trivial things that aren’t his fault, he stays awake while I blithely go to bed and kisses my forehead lightly when I stir in my sleep, hoping I wake up and hear his faint “I’m sorry”.

I’m not sure what I did right to deserve him.