Wifey Monologue

The Conclusion of Marriage


What shall I say about then?


I come to realize that marriage is the union of two people who at first, love and care for each other; and kill each other at the same time when needs of both are not met; and desires are not fulfilled; and when words are freed like water from a broken sprinkler that floods the backyard, and if not fix in due time, the result is a dead spot on a greenish field. In marriage – if no act of service or the love languages bestowed, it shall not last and could alter the color and shapes of love. A love that grieves to be loved and be served with expectation defies the idea of a perfect marriage. But that’s how marriage should  thrive, isn’t it?  Yet,   no such thing as perfect marriage. At least accept that there is none. And that, you have to comply to the original seeds that marriage isn’t just about passionate kisses and total abandonment of the flesh but of love and respect, of being a servant to one another and of financial differences. And that he is a human – not a  knight of shining armor who can rescue you from it. In fact, the knight himself is the cause of whatever ill feelings transpired during the course of the fight and arguments happened. And if one won’t face it and run away from it, one will never learn to accept the ups and downs of marriage.



Have I not write about my monologue yet?


Due to unexpected circumstances and unexplained troubles which can be summarize as nothing but just simple forgetfulness,  I truly admit that I have not write since the occurrence and the extent of my first year of marriage. I may have write on my black book once I remember or once I see it, but yes, I have failed to comply my rule as a writer in the course of my marriage. I have made a promised to myself ever since his existence in my life began. That I will solve my troubles about him through writing.

Writing so much about it, do helps. Like how he controls the flow and the motion, the push and the pull and the ebb of the tide are too many things to write about. Plus, it could be an interesting topic in any marriage. Don’t you agree?

Oh well, marriage is fun – depends on who’s making fun 😉

But he who blames, blame not.  You know, it is really hard to keep a man than print him.

Have I not write my monologue yet?

Oh dear, let it be written in the wind of life.

Back and forth thinkin’


A year and fourteen days ago, the celebration of me and you joined together as one has reached to its first year. We knocked down one, and hopefully we’ll knock down many more.

IMG_2482 (2)To commemorate, with all the mushy notes on the card, prosecco, and stuff,  I asked you an important question which I wasn’t sure if you answered or not; and without delay and a pause,  you replied with a question, “What is it with you that you cannot give up something about yourself?” My initial thought was you were asking an innocent question. Then, I pondered and wandered and puzzled at the thought of you asking a very unexpected question.

So I asked myself, “Hmn, this is not good, is it?”.

So I thought about things. Figured out many things. Thinking clearly of what you’ve just asked. Recollecting our first two, three, four, and six months of  marriage and  thought about the months after six months of being married. I thought about things that I did and didn’t do. Stuff that may seem not healthy for our relationship, or issues that may resurface at the end. How unfortunate it seemed that nothing came back to me? Hmn, how sad? I paced back and forth while thinking. What is it that I couldn’t give up? I could if I know I should? Or I shouldn’t? But what happened during those months? Did I whack one of your kin? Smudge your name or what?

Oh well, nothing could be done now, eh? I guess I will just do better on the second year. What do you say of that?

Then…you were shaking your head and shrugged.

“What did I do this time?”, I asked.

“This, this…this…can’t you see?”, you pointed.

“Hmn, what exactly”?

“Whatever this you do whenever I ask you a question”.

“Like what?”

“You do this pace back and forth thinking, lost in thoughts, and left me hanging hoping to hear an answer . But at the end you will never communicate with me. You give communication a bad name. Will you learn to think out loud?”

“Oh..well dear…”, I said then pace again.

That’s worth thinking about.






Etcetera in the Morning



It was earlier than 7:00 AM,  morning was broken but the sun wasn’t ready to open its daily trend to lavish its glorious brightness. Yet, the light crept in into the 5th floor bedroom red hotel where she laid sideways and heard a heartbeat. Beside her was a man she promised of mushy things and greenish fields and rainbows of sixteen colors for the rest of her sunny and rainy days. There was movements, eyes half open and mind half dead. Her arms extended, and roam to its glorious sight. Cuddling was a man’s unreasonable likings yet in his own terms. Weather was one thing. Hot and cold, he preferred cold. So cuddling made sense. Time was another. Perfect timing as he called it. Work was his best buddies in mind, especially in the morning. And so, these were the affecting factors about cuddling. If these factors won’t creep on into his mind, then he’s good at it.

She was however has a mind that wanders from one world to another. Her thoughts travelled and no matter how much he provoked it, her thoughts were too private to discuss. She did not learn the lesson of thoughts sharing yet. Silence was her inmost sin. He did not like it. She worshiped it.

She asked one question and he said, “No”

Silence mourned, but it sounds like a shattered glass waiting for a sweeper to sweep it away.

She grabbed her phone, the clock tic.

Time was everything.


About nothing



So he said, “Alas, my fairest. What shall I wish in this world is none but your very word. You become too deep in your thoughts. Lost in your own significance. I daresay that I wish to converse with you about nothing. It seems like you have so much to say about nothing. Nothing indeed is your favorite word. How become of you? Nothing seems very interesting to me now. You have always answered my question with nothing. I have asked, “What are you up to?” too many times to count and your answers were the same. I have complied to study this nothing of yours. Yet, when you say nothing, your eyes tells me everything. Your mind wanders elsewhere and your face expresses an affair of your brain. Something is going on when you say nothing. I am indeed fond of your nothing now. Have I told you that when a woman says nothing, it’s everything? Yeah, I have told you that so many times. Yet, you still continue to say it and say nothing. Each time you utter the word my loveliest, your face lit up with something else. So as the poet versed, when she speaks, hook your eyes to hers so you understand her deepest. I do become accustomed of looking into your brown eyes. I admit I was consumed of hate about the nothing word at the first few months of our marriage but then you were too stubborn to change your answers. I forbid it to the point of madness. But I must say, you stubbornness pleases and displeases and amazes me all the same. Now, let’s change the subject, “What are you writing about?”

She answered, “Nothing”:)

On my sick-nest at heart


Wifey: I have found a way to get you home quick and easy (*wink, wink*). Ah, yes! I have told you to hang out with your old friends while I was nursing a flu that has been passed on through liptolipsuction 😉 (if there’s such a word) However, you took your time and forgot that somewhere in between, there was a sick person waiting, coughing, sneezing and suffering. When you were gone for almost six hours, loneliness was my best friend. You see, loneliness with sickness weren’t a good mixture of medication. I have learned the hard way. Emotions were screaming to its lowest point. Will you ever understand if I explain? Then, you have read a five minutes Facebook “So sick and alone” status, which made you become a fast to furious, crazy driver to get home.  Good sense slapped my bad temper away and deleted it as soon as you called. Did I hang up on you? O yes, I did and please forgive me for lack of self-control. However, you should have called and told me bits and pieces of where you were going after Outback so I can sing and calm my loneliness away.