The One

Why I'll Never Love Again

Photo by Aleksandra Sapozhnikova on Unsplash

I wrote this piece months ago and thought it wasn’t very good, so I kept it in my “drawer.” It still isn’t good, but I have decided to share it anyway.

Lisa, my friend mentioned here, has been diagnosed with a life-changing sickness that required her to message me:

“Can you come cook for my daughter after the operation? You know Matt isn’t capable.”

And:

“I don’t know how to tell my mother. Maybe after Chinese New Year?”

I guess I’m finally sharing it because it reminds me of a simpler time.

When all we had to worry about was whether a marriage would last.

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“I think if my husband died, I wouldn’t love again,” I said.

“ME TOO!!!” Lisa exclaimed.

We were sitting across from each other at her dining table, each with our toddler sitting next to us, shoveling rice into their little mouths.

“It’s so much work to love someone. I don’t think I can do it again,” I added.

“I KNOW!!!” she enthusiastically echoed my sentiment.

To me, everything is just a matter of probability and timing, so I have never believed in the idea of “the one” or “the love of my life.”

Sometimes I still think about the guys who almost became long-term fixtures in my life: there was Henry, whom I liked for quite a while during college. He and I came from the same town. We had lunch together for weeks. Then one day, I lost that fluttering feeling in my stomach, and the week after that, he gave me a bouquet of carnations.

Well, too late.

Then there was Tim. He wasn’t from the same town, but we had the same religious beliefs. My religious beliefs were a big thing for me (still are, but less fervent now), so he had that on his side. But I was having a crush on someone older who didn’t follow the same God. So I turned Tim down, even though nothing came of the older man.

Then, eventually, I met my husband. We dated for years, and I almost gave up twice—the first time we talked about it, the second time I pretty much just upped and left. But he caught up with me just in time before I’d completely moved on.

You know the kind of men who are much better at being husbands and fathers than boyfriends? That’s my husband. He cleans, he cooks, he comes home with small surprises, and plans dates—but it all started to happen after the wedding. It was almost like he couldn’t invest in someone who wasn’t family. Oh, and he rocked our baby for two hours in the middle of the night, every night, standing in a very specific spot our son loved, to help him fall back asleep.

(Ten years on, he has almost redeemed himself for getting me to the point of giving up before putting a ring on it.)

I often joked with my husband that he should thank Lisa’s husband, Matt. After every catch-up, Matt made my husband seem like the husband of the year. Matt thinks that since he is the breadwinner, he gets to do nothing but his 9-5 daily grind. Without kids, it isn’t such an insurmountable pain-in-the-ass habit. But when you have a child, that mentality is lethal to a marriage. Kids are hard work—it’s full-on 24/7 and makes you lose yourself.

Matt isn’t even such a brilliant breadwinner. Lisa works part-time and makes more per hour than he does. He only gets to think of himself as the breadwinner because he works full-time, and he can work full-time because she takes care of their child solo. You see the faulty circular logic there.

I was surprised that Lisa agreed with my notion of never loving another man again. I mean, at least I’m having a good run. It seemed to me her marriage has been nothing but heartache. So logic tells me you’d want to try your luck again with someone else.

But sitting there, watching the kids finish their rice, I realized Lisa and I had come to the same conclusion via different paths. It doesn’t matter if your marriage is good or bad—you’ve already done the work. And that work is what makes it “the love of your life.”

Not destiny bringing two imperfect people together for a perfect union.

Just the fact that you’ll never have it in you to build something like this again.

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A Swan and A Koi will be back soon. I’m talking to Rose and Tom through the Union, and I’m confident that the latest pay package will get them back to work.