Purple

I noticed a small cluster of flowers at the side of my parents' house. A tiny patch of amethyst amidst the green lawn. Planted by my dad, of course - the one family member in possession of a green thumb. My mom can wilt a flower at 10 paces with a glare. My maternally bestowed floracidal prowess is by no means as finely honed, though I can kill a cactus!

The flowers' location puzzled me. Why were they here, tucked away almost like an afterthought, unlikely to be seen by a passerby on the sidewalk or street?

Then I realized. Purple is my mom's favorite color. The color of so much of her attire.

And so those purple flowers stand in their secretive little niche. Through the rain. Through the parching sun. Through the morning dew. Because my dad loves my mom.

30-something virgin

Well, it's happened. As of a few months ago, I am a 30-something virgin. [cue fanfare] Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind, there was the hope that this might not come to pass. That something catastrophic might prevent it. Like death. Or sex. About a year ago, I could laugh about having a blog named "30-something virgin". Because I wasn't. But now I am.

Ah well. Best keep looking ahead. I have ten years to come up with a new blog name... :)

I want that

They met on a blind date arranged by a mutual acquaintance. My friend was a student. She was the new girl in town and didn't know anyone. Less than half a year later, they were married. Then his naval ship left for the other side of the world. They still have the letters they wrote to each other then. Later, she followed him from port to port, seeing him each time his ship docked. This fall will mark 44 years together.

I want that.

$7,000 (continued)

I suppose I would have to learn the language of my forefathers/mothers. I did take a few classes back in college. But that was years ago...when I was still young. And I have since reverted to illiteracy and a restaurant speaking level. It isn't the easiest of tongues, viciously capricious at times - where the tiniest glossal slip can mean the difference between "map" and "vomit". I knew of an acquaintance's sister, a nonnative speaker in an intercultural marriage. She tried to learn the language to impress her mother-in-law, and then ended up calling her a horse.

Or is it really so necessary to have a common spoken language? Many animals communicate quite well through grunts, squeals, clicks, and chirps, including pigs, bunnies, horses, dolphins, and married humans. The documentary Cowboy del Amor comes to mind, which by the way I highly recommend (it's about a guy who arranges matches between American men [predominantly older, divorced, blue-collar] and Mexican women [often white-collar, doctors, lawyers]). Here's a quote from one of the successful couples: "We have a rule. She isn't gonna learn English. I'm not gonna learn Spanish. That way we can't fight."

Anyway, I guess I might as well brush up on the old language - where a mere friggin' fricative separates "marriage" from "freedom".

$7,000

Sister: $7,000.
Me: Eh?
Sister: $7,000 (US). That's how much Uncle is offering to anyone who will marry one of his 30-something factory girls.

Our uncle owns a factory in the old country. He has his own sizable brood of not-quite-marriageable age, but his paternal feelings extend to his young employees.

Me: I thought there's a severe overabundance of males there.
Sister: All the girls are in the cities while all the guys are in the countryside.
Me: Why?
Sister: Because the factories hire the girls.
Me: Why?
Sister: [exasperated sigh] Because the girls do the job better.
Me: Why?
Sister: Because girls are just plain faster than boys.
Me: ...

Hmmm...I could use $7,000...

Loser

"You're a loser if you aren't married by the age of 25," my cousin chided my sister (then 25). My cousin made his pronouncement from the lofty age of 12. He's now in his early 20s...and ha!...still single!

Movies

My friend, S, had to go see Sex and the City 2 with his fiancée. Never mind that she was also going to see it the next day with her girlfriends. She needed someone to accompany her to the opening. And so S went. Ever the glass full kind of guy, he was just grateful that she didn't make him go to the midnight screening.

"That's over the line!" said one of my other male buddies, shaking his head. "I'll go shopping with her for feminine hygiene products. I'll even go to Victoria's Secret. Alone. But man! Sex and the City? That's over the line."

"I would've made an ultimatum," said another friend, who'd gotten married a few weeks ago. "The movie or the wedding, Honey."

I met up with S the next day to watch Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. I want my 2 hours back! But at least it washed the taste out of S's mouth. He was visibly unscathed from the previous day's proceedings. Then again, S is made of sterner stuff than I. I would've spent the entire movie whimpering in my seat and then emerged from the theater, a sad, gibbering husk.

I wish I had someone to drag me to see Sex and the City 2. :)