She wanted me to write something about her. It seemed like a mountainous job, for I didn’t know what I’ve been feeling ever since I married her. There were no butterflies in stomach, never day dreamed about her, hardly spoke on the phone for hours. Do I really love her? What is love? Is it the feeling I had when I saw my first crush in school? Or is it the feeling that drives us to do the craziest things on earth?
Holy moly! Why did I marry her then? She asked me this question a hundred times but never got a satisfactory answer. Do I have an answer? Can there be a reason behind marriage? If yes, does it become conditional? ‘Do you love me?’, she asks. I stare at my own thoughts.
It’s been almost two years now. Neither my life nor my lifestyle has changed. She let me be myself. I know no one loves me the way she does. How do I know? I just know. What does she do to make me feel that way? Nothing much. She screams, she fights, she does what she wants. Then how does it make me feel good? Because that’s exactly how I want her to be. She is not my better half. She doesn’t complete me, because I hardly start anything for her to finish. She does it all by herself. I love her not for what she does, but for what she is.
Happy Valentine’s Day, my opposite!