Saccharine Irony

This site is a compilation of fluid thoughts, a collection of poetry, random glimpses of humor and tragedy, spontaneous notions of an extremely sensitive mind.

Notes on a Sultry February February 7, 2008

Filed under: that funny love thang,Women — Aimee @ 3:53 pm
Tags: ,

old-style-ring.jpg These days, I find that I am always contradicting myself. I do not want to get married yet, that is an unconditional fact, but I already have my entire wedding exquisitely planned out in my mind. Some nights I would lie awake in bed thinking if marriage is really a blissful thing – and then I think of the life my mother had with my beloved father, and I am instantly assured that it actually is. However brief it was, and however painful towards the end, I knew that love existed, that love in marriages is not the stuff of fiction. They called each other cheesy names like sweetheart and darling, always had their occasional fights in silence, and had faith built on solid ground. When father died, mother wailed like a child even though she kept telling us she was prepared for anything. It was enough that she tended to him like a baby during his last days, and kept the rest of the family in cheerful spirits when our souls were already splintered to smithereens. But then again it wasn’t enough, theirs was a marriage envied by their friends but in the end one lost the other, and at such an ill-fated time.

They were wed in Cebu, a beautiful church wedding with photos I love to scan over and over again. Mother wore a svelte white gown and carried a chrysanthemum bouquet; Papa wore his signature moustache and eye-disappearing laughter with his formal barong. They were lovely. Even when I was young, I always wanted a beautiful wedding for myself, and these days I am both comforted and bothered by the fact that thoughts on matrimony keep me awake on late nights and early dawns.

Perhaps I fear that weddings may always be beautiful, but marriages aren’t always meant to be that way. My mom had a blissful one, yet it wasn’t very blissful towards the end. I watched her grieve her heart out on the first Valentine’s Day without Papa. Perhaps I fear the possibility of solitude after having dedicated my life to someone I was prepared to grow old with. Besides, marriages can never be too ideal, if it were so lawyers would be losing almost half their income on marriage lawsuits and divorces.

Yet my wedding gown is clearly mapped out in my mind- a simple strapless number, or a Grecian style flowing dress with a plunging neckline meant to show just a decent amount of cleavage. My invitations should have tiny rhinestones pasted on them, and if my mind does not change three years from now, I’ll have midnight blue and champagne yellow as my wedding’s color motif.

For all it’s worth, I do hope to get married someday. I know it’s not going to happen soon, nor do I expect a proposal with rose petals and fancy fireworks. I wish to get married, and to survive the days after the lovely pictures are compiled inside the albums. Love exists, I know, but in guises the human heart oftentimes finds too hard to handle. Marriage is every girl’s dream and it’s something all women deserve.

And if I’m not being selfish, the honeymoon’s definitely going to be where there are blazing sunsets, and kisses under yellow moonlight.



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