My mum is 60 today. Happy birthday Mama Ng. Earlier this week, mum, dad and I celebrated her Chinese birthday (which is all based on the lunar calendar).
At the dinner table I witnessed something truly rare. Dad picked a piece of meat and placed it into her rice bowl with: “Here you go. Happy birthday.” While such a basic gesture is common amongst other families, it is like I say, truly rare in mine.
I got to thinking how despite being married for 31 or 32 years, my parents wave the flag for the couples who with time fall out of love for each other.
As far as I can remember I have never witnessed any form of romance between them. You know those couples who share secret smiles across the room or the really elderly ones who hold hands in the park? That’s not my parents. At all.
Come to think of it I don’t think they’ve ever tried to hide the fact that they don’t think highly of each other. Even when I was a kid, on the odd days where I would play wedding with the net curtain as a veil, somewhere in the background my parents would be having yet another argument (well more my mum yelling at my dad who musters up all his strength to just ignore her) that would turn into just silence by Saturday – when they would simply not speak to each other. Those moments of silence were pure gold when I was growing up. They still are today.
Now at 24 and much older I sit at the dinner table watching my 60 and 72 year old parents not speaking to each other. If my mum says something to my dad, depending on how interesting the topic is, he will either pretend he can’t hear because he hasn’t got his hearing aids on or reply with a one syllable word. This is the main reason why I always avoid having dinner away from home because if they don’t talk to each other, they’ll make conversation with me.
On the rare day when I don’t leave the house at all, I am very aware of how mum can watch TV all day; Dad in the kitchen reading the newspaper. Unless they really have to, they can go through a whole day without sharing a word. Strangely I’m OK with that. In fact I rather they sit in silence doing their own thing rather than attempt at small talk that will result in yet another argument relating to some insignificant acquaintance.
Thinking about it even more my parents like chalk and cheese, oil and water, just do not mix. While Dad likes to be at home, mum likes to be out socialising. While Dad likes to be in Stockport where he has been for the past 30 years, mum dreams of moving to pastures new as she feels like she’s in a rut. While Mum plans to live in Hong Kong for a couple of years, Dad cannot imagine anything worse. You may be thinking, ‘so why did they get married if they’re that different.’ They’ve never told me the real reason but I’m willing to bet that they were pressured into it from both sets of grandparents. After all dad was 40, mum 28 – in the eyes of society, especially the Chinese one, that’s just too old to be still single and frivolous.
It doesn’t take a counsellor to work out why I am the way that I am. My strength, my weakness derives from learning a long time ago that unless I can experience true happiness alone, I will never be happy with anyone. I validate me. Not a marriage certificate, not vows, not a ring. Me. I’m sure it’s neither normal nor healthy to enjoy being alone as much as I do. But it’s who I am.
That being said, here is where I contradict myself: I believe in love and soul mates – for everyone else. I see it on the way to work or through a message from one of the brides to be. I just don’t hold out nor waste time expecting it to come to me anytime soon. As much as I am thrilled for those who have or will be married this year, I draw a thick, permanent line at imagining myself in the white dress, throwing the bouquet… yeah you get the drift. I love romantic comedies but I’m not a leading lady who gets the guy at the end.
In fact I would make an awful wife. Picture this: honey I really need some time to myself so see you in four days. I’ll definitely get a divorce on my paper anniversary.
But then again, never say never. Maybe Cupid will match me with my male equivalent. We’ll combine our own messed up ways together to become the ultimate hopeless, tragic, cynical yet wonderful, optimistic, imperfect Mr and Mrs there is. Like I said, I’m a contradiction.
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