For about two and a half years after my parents’ separation, I shunned the idea of marriage. What’s the point of suffering a whole lifetime just to be left alone to care for yourself when you get old, when your kids move on with their own lives leaving you by yourself and your husband, who is supposed to live with you happily ever after until death does you part, dumps you for some younger, dumber, more obedient gold digger?
And if I won’t ever get married, what’s the point of being in a relationship? I was completely happy by myself, if not enjoyed the solitude and independence of being alone. What do you mean I have to share my food with my boyfriend during dates? He has his own goddamn dishes, eat them, and leave his saliva out of my lasagna. What do you mean I should run my plan of travelling to Europe for half a month through him? It is my own fucking life, he doesn’t own me. No one does. My most responsibility is to inform him of my plan, not discuss it with him, and definitely not ask for his permission. Yes, I loved that independence. To go shopping without caring about anyone’s opinions. To live everyday without the burden of thinking about someone else’s thoughts and emotions. If I ever got bored of that sweet pleasant independence, I had my own gang, young and free, sharing many hobbies with me. They understood my jokes and references, they didn’t judge me. We went out eating, went to movies, wished each others good night. I could be totally myself around them. What else would I ask for? The best boyfriend could only make me that happy, and I didn’t think I would be lucky to have the best boyfriend.
Until I met you… The first boy that made me feel a mild sorrow when you stopped talking, stood up and left. The first boy that showed me all the bad traits and yet made me laugh instead of uttering in the disgusted manner ‘men, right?’ The first boy I could picture sharing every detail of my life, doing everything with you, and spending the rest of my life with you. The first boy I want to make sure you’re happy. I even wish our baby, boy or girl, would take after you, wish to see you hold a mini you, laughing, playing with you while I stand a few steps away watching with a jubilent smile and beaming eyes. The first time in my life I imagined feeling content being left outside. The first time I voluntarily want to sacrifice my freedom and selfishness. The first time I want to think about someone else more than myself. The first time I want to change, to try new things so that you will be happy. The first time I want to be dependant, while the same time scared to death of being dependant. The first time I realized I have started to give you a double-edged sword that you could either protect me, or kill me.
I’m not sure if I want those changes. I’m not sure if I’m proud of them. But as I see your smile and let myself be drowned in your eyes, there is a part of me that I know for sure happily wants to hand you that sword, no matter what you are going to do with it.