•{On Missing You}•

Rainn Wilson will I follow, for I ♥ Dwight Shrute!

In my case, I put on one of The Hubb's shirts.

Got hitched. Shacked up. Cooped up in a bed. I got so used to having Sailor Boy within arm's reach. It was nice. I enjoyed cuddling in all its suffocating-glory. Hah! It was too nice. I got so comfortable it resulted to total loss of control of my jaw muscles which caused me to snore. Fact. But really now, I'd slip into bed, under the covers and there I felt protected [mostly because my husband is 6" tall and a beast]. Then I'd fall asleep, safe and sound.

Reality never fails to check in though. It's sad that our married life is predisposed to long distance.

Sleeping is hard to get by when he isn't around. I sleep, restless, not knowing what I'm antsy for. I wake up feeling robbed, Hypnos did not indulge me. When we're in different countries, transition is made easy with the help of Skype. We keep it on, giving us the illusion when we wake up in the middle of the night that the other is just right there beside us. It's as close as we're going to get, the next best thing to the real thing. But when the whimsical ship calls and commands for an underway, it leaves us with nothing -- our bubble is popped. Destroyer, you capricious little thing. Our bubble bursts.

So I try to repair the bubble just like I used to do with those plastic balloons I played with as a kid -- I take the torn ends together and purse my lips tight around it -- I put on one of The Hubb's shirts. To complete my fool's paradise, I top it off with a spritz of Touch. 

Thus have I created in my paradise, a quasi-comfort. 

•{I Am Sailor Boy's Island Girl}•

Growing up, I swamped myself in a sea of Sweet Dreams and Love Stories and Harlequin Romance and my favoritest, Judith McNaught. I was never without a romantic novel (novel, because those by Judith McNaught were ream full of words embellished), I brandished them out from my purse whenever I had the chance to sit down and then I would read, like so...

and so...

I devoured the books. From the moment the heroine and her prince charming crossed paths; to the pursuit; their first kiss, vivid and elaborate to the minutest of detail that one can gather from tonsil tennis; the drama (insert big sigh, right about here) to puncture the lovers' bliss but never too big of a damage so as to always bring me to the denouement -- sweet as the creamiest vanilla milkshake of a reconciliation. One I especially liked was the anti-heroine touch, contrary to tradition these women fended off the unyielding knight, and my favorite was Whitney Westmoreland. In the end though, the anti-heroine isn't so anti after all; but, she yields only to the most worthy of men and submits to he who doesn't break her spirit but nurtures it instead. I soaked it all in.

Yet something happened that led me to put the romance and the butterflies in my stomach to rest. It finally came to me, what Janice had time and again told me with matching roll of her eyes, that the romance I've been pining for can only be found in books and movies. So I kissed all my daydreams of the Duke of Claymore, Jr. goodbye and left them in la-la land. Soon I came across Gabriel. Met up with Neil and I let him whisk me away to the Dreaming. Dated Christopher because he was too funny to pass up on. Chuck too, because he was curt yet engaging. And I chanced upon Haruki who made me feel bizarre all the time. I also tried getting to know Kurt, because of his drawings and he always had outrageous up his sleeve.

Then The Husband came along. Short of a whirlwind romance and nothing less of a super exclusive long distance relationship "I do'ed" him a year later. 

With him, the knight in shining armor from my romance novel past came to life. He caught me off guard and those who are privy to our story will maintain that he came to my rescue at the nick of time. But I didn't want to be his damsel in distress! [Anti-heroine twist, check.] Still, much to the cynic's denial in me, he brightened up my dreary life. He did. The cynic's wall was jaded-thick yet he sought to make his way through it. Then one day, I heard his voice on the other end of the line after a week-long underway, it made my ♥ smile and I actually heard him smile too. I'd have bad days and seeing his face on Skype gave me as much comfort as if I had his arms around me. The wall had crumbled and he gave me my storybook love.

Now, waking up to his "Good morning," makes my day. I love coming home to him and falling asleep with his "See you tomorrow." Wrapped in his big bear hug feels like home to me. And nothing, nothing beats his "I love you" amidst a tiff or in mid-outburst. He has made all the clichés become simple facts of life. He also made cheesy excusable.

Here's to my hero, my best friend, my lover, my partner, my wonderwall:

Thank you for bringing me some pixie dust for happiness, a splurge of magic for daydreams coming to life and a whole lotta love to last forever.