Love

Oh no! Here goes a blog post about love. Ewww. Why would I want to talk about that?

Welp, for one thing: I'm a girl. Surprise, surprise. Shocking that I would fantasize about one day falling in love and marrying the guy, right? :)

(Edit: Everything that I just wrote is pretty much free flow. I didn't plan what to write, what track to follow...I dunno, I just typed a lot. It's not a story, just something that I never really talk about with anyone. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense and this post can be skipped. I wrote it at 2 AM after all sooooo. Maybe in the future I will write a more concise compilation of my history that'd be cool, right?)

Honestly, I think about it at least once every day. Getting into a relationship (marriage!) is part of the future that I picture for myself. That doesn't mean that my sole purpose, only goal, is to find a guy. No. I want a guy who can support me in whatever I do. Love me for who I am. Someone who can deal with my need for a balance between solitude and companionship.

My mom and dad are married but there are some times when I think, "How the hell did they get together?" My mom ( Mẹ) is a petite and Asian woman with a fiery personality. Get her mad and you'd wish you were somewhere else. Respect and love her, and she will love you with all her heart. Get her laughing and you'll never want her to stop because the sound of her happiness would make you happy. She's a talker; all of the women in the Le/Pham family are talkers, save for myself :)

My dad is the complete opposite. He's an average height Asian dude with white hair (now permanent white since I told him to stop dying his hair black [come on, Ba, what 63-year-old man still has dark brown hair?]). He's quiet and somber as hell, but when he gets mad, boy, everyone in the room stops talking at once. He shows his love by messing up your hair. He gives you a smile that makes his eyes grow smaller, and you can't help but smile back. He's at the age where it's time to reflect on your past and be content with your life.

They clash all the time. My mom nags my dad because sometimes he forgets to do things. My dad dislikes my mom's high-strung personality so he tends to tune her out and watch CNN or FoxNews while she talks. Mom confides in me that when my brother, sister, and I are away, there are days when they don't even talk to each other. Like, my mom would come home and cook dinner, and my dad would not say a word. I get really sad when I hear this, and I don't want my mom to feel sad either.

But there are occasions where I have seen them very much content with each other. My dad knows what side of the couch she likes to occupy (the corner), so whenever there's a relaxing moment, he'd lay himself on the opposite side and stretches his old legs over her lap. Mom would sit with her tea cup balanced on top of his blanket-covered ankles, and they'd watch Bizarre Foods together. Ba makes coffee for the two of them in the morning. He and Mom would have breakfast in the morning before she heads to work. He doesn't have to wake up early, since he's retired, but he still does to see my mom off. It's a balance. My mom talks; he listens. I used to think that was perfect.

I now realize that Mom and Dad's marriage is not the typical marriage that you hear about. They didn't love each other in the beginning. It's painfully apparent whenever my mom speaks of the past. She says she was young and afraid in America. She only had Dad basically to settle with. So, she did. There was no love involved. In fact, before she met my Dad, she was basically engaged back in Vietnam. Had the whole wedding ceremony and all. Met the parents. Then she had to leave during the Vietnam War, to escape communism and the destruction of her home. My mom keeps telling me that her life was horrible, and I understand. But sometimes, when she talks about my dad in such a bad way, I don't want to hear it.
He's my dad. I see him as a great parental figure, loving and caring in his whole way. I don't want to listen to stories of how he barely went out with my Mom when she wanted to. How he didn't hold a job, so basically our family was poor. I have so many painful memories of what their tempestuous marital life has done.

My parents had tons of arguments when I was younger. My dad once drove all the way to Vermont to get away from my mom. Sometimes my mom would stay at my aunt's house to keep her distance from Dad. One time, I remember my parents fought so bad. I can't remember what they argued about. My mom left to go somewhere, so my dad shut himself in his room. Me and my siblings were still young, but old enough to take care of ourselves. Was it a day? A week? I can't be sure. But I do remember the day my mom came home. I couldn't stop crying. I missed her so much and she was finally home. 

She spread herself on the couch and I knelt down near her, grabbing her hands and burying my tear-stained face into her chest. She looked really beautiful then, with her dark brown and long hair and makeup on (red lipstick, pink blush). She smelled like the outdoors (the scent that you get after walking through a summer's day). My mom saw how distraught I was, and I can still see the look of pain on her face, knowing that in her act of selfishness, she abandoned her children. She told me then that if she ever had to leave again, she would take me. Me. I was so caught up in what she promised me that I didn't realize she was considering the possibility of another fight in the future.

I can't remember all of my past, but that was one moment that I will never forget. 

What was the point of all the words that I had just written? Well, I'm not really sure, but I guess I just wanted to let everything out...

Back to love. I can say with confidence that I have never been in love. And yet, I imagine it being the most wonderful feeling in the word. Does it exist? Hell yes it does. I consider love to be consuming. The only fault of love is, I think, that it can always fade. That's the reality of divorces. My guy: sensitive, intelligent, caring. He has to like shopping for books--the type of guy who can be found in the fiction aisle of Borders. He has to be quirky in his own way and not be ashamed about it. He has to talk--because I like to listen--but has to listen--because sometimes I need to talk. He has to embrace me like I'm his only girl. He has to have a smile just for me. He has to know that I love to live life and discover new things so he has to let me do that. He has to love his family--to the point where if he has to choose between me and his family, he would choose his family (I know, that sounds weird but it's always one of those things that I imagine). He has to be true to me and only lie when it's something trivial--like he forgot something that I kinda, maybe needed--but still tell me the truth even if it will hurt me.

I don't know how I even got to this point. First I was talking about my parents then this...I don't know. I guess in a way, I want my marriage to be somewhat like my parents but also different--mainly the difference being I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE FIRST.

And post.