Sunday Kind Of Love

Wives saying goodbye to their loved ones in the Navy, 1963. The reality of love and marriage continues to ruin my life.

When it comes to matters of the heart, it seems that I’m not just old-fashioned. Apparently, I’m very nearly prehistoric. I’ve always depended on my parents’ enduring marriage as the barometer of true love. On one hand, I feel extremely blessed to have such a solid example of love and marriage existing under the same roof as myself to aspire after. But as I venture further out into the wilderness, the fog is beginning to lift. And it is scary, you guys.

According to data published in 2011, the average length of an American marriage is 8.8 years and more than 5,000 couples were getting divorced each day in China that same year. Professor David Popenoe of Rutgers University mentions in an article that some 40% of American children are living apart from their biological fathers, and majority of these children aren’t in the habit of seeing their fathers regularly or often, if at all. Worse still, a third of children are now born out-of-wedlock, many of who grow up without ever knowing their fathers.

It’s become painstakingly clear to me, marrying your childhood sweetheart at a young age and staying by each other’s side even after 40 years, is not a common occurrence in the real world even if I may be coming home to it every single day. I repeat; it’s a complete fluke. Back then, if you found someone you could stand who could stand you, you’d hold on to him or her for dear life because meeting someone new wasn’t so easy.

Today, we’re just a swipe, like, retweet or click away from someone better because any social media app or website can be used as Tinder/OkCupid if you’re good looking. It’s distressing how similar the Internet algorithms for ordering mini skirts on ASOS and finding a life partner are. By trying to emulate my parents’ relationship all these years, I’ve basically set myself up for failure and condemned myself to envisioning life as a hopeless romantic.

Mind you, it isn’t just the concept of love that this wonderful bubble I’ve been living in has sugarcoated – it’s the concept of life. Allegedly, dresses aren’t just pressed, foie gras at brunch isn’t just served, and gallivanting around Europe for several months doesn’t just happen. How far removed from reality have I been all this while? That deserves an essay all to itself.

Dating is just trial and error after all, isn’t it? We actively seek out people we’re interested in, we try these people out for a bit and see how they fit into our lives, we learn about ourselves and grow from the relationship, we bounce once we’ve had enough or discovered it’s not for us, and then we start over again and slowly figure out what it is we do and do not want. This operation does get tiring and disheartening at times, but I’ve found that by just appreciating the honesty and simply moving on, we can avoid becoming blasé. As the Japanese proverb goes, "fall down seven times, stand up eight."

I Want To Ride My Bicycle

This one's for us quirky girls: Go ride a bike and then go fix yourself, hon

I’m not a huge fan of outdoor physical activity, to be frank, or any kind of physical activity for that matter. The old me would’ve gone something like, ‘Dear “let’s go bike riding this Saturday” dude, this obviously isn’t gonna work out. Have a nice life.’ But the new me is much more fun and outgoing, more – for lack of a better word – #YOLO. She can’t be tamed, really.

The thunderstorm I’d been praying for didn’t happen, so Sean rented a 2-seater surrey bike for us. I wasn’t crazy about it initially because it looked ridiculous. But half a minute in, I realized that only he could control the steering, and just one person (Ie: not me) really needed to do the paddling, so it worked out being a fantastic idea.

With no chance to load up on liquid courage, I dug my hands into my pockets to rummage for whatever scraps of charisma and confidence I could use to see me through the coastal ride. He told me about how the surrey bike reminded him of ChuckleVision, a comedy series he'd watched as a kid growing up. In exchange, I divulged stories shedding light on how I’d gotten this great personality of mine. “Did you go to some kind of boot camp where you had a sense of humour drilled into you?” he’d asked me a few days back, which was his clever way of stereotyping and insulting my culture, but at the same time celebrating the fact that I’d somehow come out the other side.

After an hour or so of cycling up and down the coast, we decided to grab some food. Our conversation continued to flow over truffle fries, sliders, grilled salmon and milkshakes. Even though we were reasonably full, a chocolate lava cake at the next table had caught my eye. I’ve never been one to say no to dessert, reason being, I can’t.

This, along with my habit of washing my hair only twice weekly, using olive oil to moisturize my skin, my staunch faith in astrology and tarot cards, my defiance against my parents’ wishes for me to get a bachelor’s degree (in my defense, I’m really working on the bachelor aspect), my distrust of doctors and the healthcare industry, my obsession with growing my own vegetables, my apprehension of microwaves – I could go on forever – I believe, are quirks. And it’s quirks like these that bring to light the fact that I am, however idiotic, an individual. We’re all crazy inside anyway, some of us are just better than others at masquerading as sane people. #phonies

I used to think that if we wanted to find love and happiness, all we had to do was stop caring about what other people think and concentrate instead on staying true to ourselves and validating our real emotions. Because if someone doesn’t appreciate you for being the incredibly real and authentic person that you are, what’s the point?

Yet as we all know, revealing our true self to someone is the first step to marriage, a cozy cottage along the River Thames, 5 kids, and possibly a divorce. So that’s the point, I guess. Maybe, just maybe, we’ve taken the “Love Me For Me” movement a bit too far this time. It’s understandable to want someone who is willing and able to accept that we’re not perfect. But if there’s something inherently off about our lives or person that needs fixing, then a character overhaul may be beneficial to all parties involved.

After dinner, the sky looked threatening. It may have just gotten a bit darker because the sun was about setting, since we’re being completely honest with each other here. But Sean and I needed the excuse of a looming storm to head back to his place for a DVD. Spoiler alert: we all know how that story ends.