“As we drifted to another place and time
And the feeling was so heady and sublime
As I lost my heart to you there in the dark
Underneath the stars…”
I grew up as a very loving person. I’m a sensitive, crybaby, who cannot stand watching gruesome movies and cringes at the sight of bugs and spiders.
Sometimes, I drink coffee in the middle of the night and watch the stars in the veranda. I dream of castles and long hairs being thrown down the window, whilst my knight in shining armor comes down the vine-engulfed terrain, swishing and swashing them with his sword, to come up and rescue me.
I am trapped in a body that cannot easily distinguish reality from abstract dreams. Sometimes, I have to shake my head terribly just to keep my focus on earth and its grave truths.
Am I alone on my quest to live a happily-ever-after life, even once upon a time?
I am in love. To the possibility of someone loving me the way I wanted him to.
The man I married is not exactly the one I grew old and happy with. He doesn’t take my hand when we cross the street. He doesn’t cuddle with me at night; he doesn’t share my cup of coffee at the veranda when I take time to look at the stars. He was not exactly the one I thought was my sword-brandishing knight.
To say that I am happy with my married life will be a lie. I am not, and I am not sure if I’ll ever be. I don’t even know if it’s really him, or if it’s just… all me.
I just want what all wives want… a house with a garden, children, food on the table, money to pay for the bills. And at the end of the day, a husband who comes home with kiss-ready lips and wide hug-ready arms.
Once or twice a month dates, a single rose without any reason, a black lingerie wrapped in gold during your anniversaries. Flower petals carelessly strewn on your bed. Both of you lying on the grass hand-in hand, watching the constellations. Or just a movie and a cup of coffee afterwards… where we talk about the days we had, the fights I had with the kids, and his god-awful day at the office.
You know that one scene in almost all those love stories? The one where this woman looks out the veranda, wearing a chiffon with the wind blowing on her face, and then her man embraces her from behind? I want that. I envy that.
But I don’t have it. I felt important once before. And God, how I missed it.
I missed happiness, even in disguise.
When my mother and I watch sappy movies, she always asks me, what’s up with that? It’s not as if you’ll die if you do not have a man by your side. It’s not as if men are all important.
Just like what Jen Aniston said on Rumor Has It, “I can live without you… I just don’t want to.”
That’s just how I feel, too. I can live without a man, that’s for sure. Even with this one, in particular. But, the problem is and has always been that—I don’t want to.
He’s got nothing special going on for him. Sure, he’s employed with benefits; he’s a good cook; he’s good-looking and most girls look at him like he’s Leonardo DiCaprio. But it stops there.
So why am I still in this relationship, trapped in a tower where the knight is the one who’s holding me captive? Will it always be because of the children?
Maybe there won’t be a happily-ever-after in this relationship. Maybe, I really am alone on a quest for the right love.
As I sip my cup of coffee in the veranda, my computer on sleep mode waiting for me, I look at the stars again, and I shake my head in frustration. There will be no answers, but maybe, there is hope.
For now, I’ll have to settle for once upon a time… underneath the stars.
PS:
Underneath The Stars, sung and written by Mariah in 1996. I only heard it for the first time about 2 days ago, and instantly fell in love with it. This made me decide that I heart Mariah. *clap, clap* two thumbs way way up.
