Conversations with My Future Wife

Checking the wall clock above me, the hands were pointing at 1:35. The wee hours in the morning. Though she was sharing her problems and asking me to help her find some solutions, overall, it was indeed a lovely and enjoyable conversation. Without realizing, I had been having this very nice talk with her for more than two and a half hour that night. Giselle, the girl I knew a couple of years back from a former work place. The girl in which lingered in my heart, once in a blue moon. The girl that I deliberately abandoned for fear of hurting her further. The girl that I didn’t have the heart to tell the truth, that I might not be the guy, whoever she thought I was. The girl who was just sharing her insecurities about her current boyfriend.

As deep in my core I questioned my ability to become a good husband -and as Bal would agree that there’s nothing but the spirit of ibu-ibu (motherhood) that reside inside me- I do fantasize of having a married life sooner or later. Of course Bal would bless that very moment if he would see me fit to one day become a husband. He said, “I can picture A Mad, A Kiong, A Ndy, or even A Ndro (some of our friends) getting married. But I don’t know about you. You are like the embodiment of a living housewife in the way you do things and conduct your hobbies and interests”. Which was of course so hard to deny.

So then why this urge? A very strong urge which I didn’t know how to base that on. To tell you the truth, even those days were gone. The days when I felt the pressures. Heavenly loads from parents, from other family members and friends alike for me to jump into the familyhood bandwagon. These overwhelming pressures weren’t as visible as let’s say, half a decade ago. Frankly, I think they’d somehow already guessed. Thus stopped wishing and hoping about seeing me toting a gal home planning our wedding reception.

And then suddenly Giselle was back into my life. Her calls were getting more frequent. She shared, she cried, she talked, and I listened closely. (Oh yes, she’s another Libra in distress!) There was nothing but pure joy in assisting her needs. Of course she would feel very comfortable having this shoulder to cry on. Diamond had officially stopped becoming a woman’s best friend. It’s us, the sensible gay males who would listen and give our undying supports for them. Though sometimes this attention giving could backlash to us. Especially if these female specimens didn’t know any better.

After a while I began to talk about her with Mr. Ripley, our new dependable psychic at the office (who of course as my best friend, already knew everything about me). Mr. Ripley also knew her from way back. Back when I could feel her attentiveness for me. The way she wanted to care for me, for my health, for my family. Back then I had to shrug her off. I didn’t want give her any impression or to promise her anything but a profound friendship that I may as well offer her. Of course I couldn’t tell her the truth, as she was sort of affiliated with my dear church and all the wonderful people I met there along the way.

“Just be kind to her,” Mr. Ripley would start one of his psychic sessions. “I can feel that they’re going to break up very soon” he said about Giselle and Antonio’s relationship.

“But hell, I am not going to date her! Are you forgetting one very important detail here?” I snapped at him.

“But, yes, it is your destiny Professor. One that you may not be able to just refuse. You’ll be about 36 or 37 when finally you’d have her hand on the isle”

“What? Are you sure? I mean by that time she’d be like 35 or something. Would she wait for me that long? And how am I going to be able to just leave this so-called lifestyle just like that?”

“Be patient my child. One day you’re going to feel so tired of being in this position and you will want to settle down. And when that happened, you’ll have no better person in mind to fill that perfect spot in your heart”

Scary.
Yet somehow relieving.

And still I was not sure on why would I felt relieved hearing this. Is it because that I felt that in the end I wouldn't have to be old and lonely? Is it because that I felt like God had indeed arranged a special someone to welcome me at the end of my wild journey? Crazy as it might sound though.

Another day, another chat on the phone. It was nearing midnite. Another phone call from her.

“You know the craziest thing just happened?” she began.

“What? What? What?”

“You know that my parents and siblings never expected too much out of me getting married any sooner?”

“Yea, you told me that before”

“But do you know why?”

“Ok. Why?”

“I just found out last week. It turned out that secretly, a few years back my dad went to this Guamya master (Chinese fortune teller)”

“OMG. And what did this person tell him?”

“Just relax Sir, your daughter will get married someday. But it is not going to happen within these years. You may have to let her younger siblings pass her on this, she wouldn’t mind. She'll never loose hope on love. So, let me tell you this, she’ll get hitched in her mid thirties. Someone nice. You don’t have anything to worry lah…”

…

I just sat there. Stunned for a couple a second in silence.

Scary.
Yet somehow relieving.





Welcoming possibilities,





Prof. Utonium

Note: But how could that young beefy-daddy-with-a-baby-stroller neighbor still look as enticing as ever?

Copyright: Opening Image. Corbis © 2008