I have always loved big gestures.
So I wanted someone who would move mountains and rearrange the constellations to spell my name. I wanted them to make it rain or shine whenever it fancied me. I wanted someone who would train a hundred pigeons to shit the words, “Mun Yee is God” on my ex’s car.
I wanted them to buy me flowers that die and shiny things that dull over time. I wanted them to validate me in the form of a changed Facebook relationship status, matching phone wallpapers and my own ringtone.
I equate over the top gestures and grand displays of affection to love.
It’s been almost a year now and you have given me nothing of that sort.
Mountains remain unmoved, the stars kept their place in the sky. I don’t have a single shiny thing – only a hundred untrained pigeons.
Instead of far-fetched promises and cheaply dispensed happily-ever-after’s, you give me a steady accumulation of small realities.
Long after the kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach has moved away; long after the crazy breathlessness and the desire to mate every second subside, you love me still.
You love me to the point of madness, until there is no room for doubt and fear.
You assure me that you would love me through it all: the good, the bad, the messy bed hair and unmade face.
That all those important dates like Valentine’s and Anniversary’s are good and well, but it is the 20, 000 Mundane Monday’s and Trivial Thursday’s that matter more to you.
You make every moment, every breath drawn together, something to be thankful about.
You were nothing like what I’d asked for.
But that’s how God works no? He doesn’t give you what you want – He gives you what you need.
And I am so glad He gave me you.