Sunday, June 27, 2010

I love you...

Dear boy,

I love you. No, I think I love you very much. I am crazy about you. I tell the world, I think, THIS IS IT. I have really found the perfect guy. I am ready to get married now.

The world asks, "Are you sure?"

And I wonder why. I am in love with you. I call you so many times in a day, in spite of all the work I have, just to tell you how much I love you, because my heart dies to say it out loud. I call during my lunch break, because I want you to know that I have not forgotten your existence amidst the various things clouding my brain in the middle of my work day. I send you a message while I am running back to work after my half-eaten sandwich has been thrown in the waste- bin, because I already miss you. I call when I am taking a much-needed break from my computer, because I do not want you to think I am ignoring you. I call again when I am leaving my desk just so you know that my work is done for the day. I call when I am going back home to check if you are fine and your work is going okay, and if your secretary is still disturbing you with her mini-skirt presence. I let you know when I am home so that you do not add worries about my safety to your sky- high list of worries about work, home,...
As I do the work I have taken home, I wait for you to call to say you are home. But you do not call. I understand, love, you have to unwind, take a shower, have your coffee, watch the game on television, catch up with your friends, talk to mom, feed the dog, give him some love, tackle the landlord and his mercenaries, call your secretary to talk about work, talk to the boss, and then cook or buy dinner. While I cook dinner, I think of you, and how much I miss you, and then you call. I leave my dinner halfway, talk to you. Dinner is not as important as you, is it? You say you will call me back, and I wait. I am sleepy, but if I lie down, I might not hear your call. So I sit down in a chair and wait for your call. I doze off, my work gets scattered, but my phone remains firmly in my lap, clasped resolutely in my hands. All this, because I love you, and I can not sleep without having said good night to you. Why would I do this every day of my life, if I did not really love you, I say to the world.

The world asks, "What do you see in him?"

And I wonder why. I am in love with you- the person you are. I do not care if you are short or tall, thin or fat, fair or dark. I do not care that your shoulders are not broad, that your hands are baby-like, that your feet have those black blisters and are cracked, that your eyes do not sparkle when you smile at me after I apologize whenever we have an argument, that your hair is too oily, that your nails are always overgrown and not clean, nothing. I really do not bother about your socks being unwashed, that little wrinkle in the front of your shirt, the fit of your trousers, the stoop of your shoulders, the ruffled,long hair. I have no complaints about the way you treat the dog, the way you drive your car, how you expect me to carry all the shopping bags while you find somebody to talk on the phone, how we always go to places that do not accept your credit card, or the way you smoke, drink, party or switch off your phone after an argument. Honestly, I am not hurt when you ask me to call you later while I am talking to you about my day, or when you doze off while I am crying to you. I understand that you are tired after work, have enough problems of your own to deal with (since we spend hours talking about them, and I try and resolve as many as I can), and the restaurants and shops should really upgrade to stay in touch with the latest developments.
I tell the world that you are like my father. Actually, you are a lot more caring than him. You do not like it if I have too many friends, outings, get-togethers, cookouts, parties, late nights, unlike dad, who used to allow outings and girl night-outs. You are a lot more protective than dad. He has never glared at the guy who smiled at me in the medical store. He has never asked me to stop thanking every guy who carries my grocery bags to my car, fills fuel in my car, serves food at restaurants,etc. Dad has never even noticed that the perfume I wear makes me more noticeable. In fact, dad has always made it a point to buy me my perfumes. Now that you have noticed, I have asked dad to stop buying me things, as he does not know what is good for me. I do not spend time with dad, though we always had our special Sundays where nobody was allowed (not even mom), but I can spend that time with you, can't I? I can't ignore you, darling. Dad understands. The world will too.Soon.
I announce to the world that I am getting married to you,that I can not wait to spend my entire life with you.

And then, the world asks again, "Are you sure?"

I wonder why. I love you. I care about you. I like the way you take care of every detail in my life. I do not need friends when I have you around- you are my best friend, and anyway, they do not understand us. I do not need my parents when you are there- you take better care of me any way. I do not have time to call anybody because I call you all the time. I do not have to drive to the grocery store- you will drive me there. I do not have to put up with the stares of every male in the place- you will stare at them, their wives, their daughters and the babies' nannies.I do not have to go out alone or even with girls in these dangerous times- you will take me everywhere you think we should go, when you have the time. Anyway, you know which places we should go to. I do not have to break my head over the kind of clothes I should buy- you know what looks best on me. Since I have known you, I have lost touch with my reading, my acquaintances, my friends, my family, my tastes, my likes, my dislikes, my individuality. I do not know the new me. You know me. I have a new self- you.
Why would I not marry you? Have I not made myself perfect for you, and forgotten who I am? Is marriage not all about adjustments? And don't I do enough of that to keep us happy for life? Is it not enough that I love you enough for the two of us?

What does the world know, anyway?