Could've been's, would've been's

To think that by this time B would have already proposed. We'd already be preparing the engagement ceremony, with the help of his mother of course. Our relatives would've been living each day in excitement, with nothing coming out of their mouths except fuss about the preparations. I would've given them the greatest gift a girl can: marrying into a decent family at the ripe age of twenty five (Chinese calendar).

In my spare time, back when I was with B, I would let my imagination run away with what it would be like to be married. But before I could get there, I had to imagine what it could be like as an engaged woman.

It seemed awful.

Having to break the news to all my friends, most of whom are older than I am. Instead of congratulations I imagine a resounding, "WHY?"

I would bow my head, not to display humility at being blessed as such but out of sadness. Yes, girls, I'm out of the game. I'll be fat and sporting a short haircut and you'll be seeing me only in polo shirts and khaki shorts. I won't be hanging out with you because you couldn't possibly relate to my new life, you with your night outs and mid-week movie dates. While you went out shopping for clothes and makeup, I'll be hovering the top floor of the mall to the furniture section or, if I'm lucky, electronics. While you take your time enjoying a cuppa before heading home, I'll be making a quick (or maybe not) stop to the supermarket. Who'd want to hang out with me?

Finally, my imagination would get to the married part, and it never failed to send a thrill--and fear--down my spine. It seemed so... grownup. What would it be like to find a man beside me in the mornings? To have a house all to ourselves? Would B change after the wedding? Would he get irritable? Less loving? Less thoughtful? Would he still tell me I'm pretty and give me that mesmerized look? Would he still offer to wash the dishes? Would we still have mid-week fancy dates? Would we still be amused about the simplest things, like the shape of the moon? Would he still find me interesting and beautiful, even when he's known every detail of my past and seen every inch of me?

What would it be like to be wife to man like him, I used to wonder. Would we have a good life? Would we fight all the time? Would there be mornings when he's too much to bear? Would he get better in time-- become stronger, calmer, more responsible? Or would we spin out of control of each other? Will I get better?

What would it be like to live together every day? Would we have plenty of things to say at the dinner table, or would we be glued to the TV, barely speaking? Would he like what I would serve him? Would we always eat out? Would we do groceries together and on a schedule? What would our refrigerator contain? Would he be annoyed that we won't ever have ice cream in the freezer? Could I convert him into a non-fat milk drinker? Would he be upset if I filled the pantry with healthy items? Would he understand if I can only cook in small amounts because I don't like left-overs? What would we do on weekends?

Of course, I don't have to worry about those things anymore. But just imagine... I already had a strategy for reorganizing his closet! Once when I was helping him change into a shirt and tie before an event, I looked into his closet, and I loved looking at the clothes all crisp and soap-smelling. I even love the tattered shirts he uses as pajamas. On that note, I swore I'd make him wear proper ones on our bed, even if I have to force him into them. I imagined us as a proper couple, complete with silk robes and fluffy slippers.

I had a lot of questions and I enjoyed imagining the answers, stretching my imagination to as naughty or as horrible as it would go. But funnily, I could never imagine just myself... what a wife I would make! I bet I'd be clumsy and clueless, breaking all sorts of social ethics and coupling rules. I bet I'd be selfish and throw tantrums all the time. Heaven knows how long until B gets tired of me.

I almost closed a chapter of my life just like that... and I got away by a hair. After all the disappointments and pain, I could only hope that the extended period doled out on us in singlehood had better be holding out something freaking awesome.