The Post-Proposal Proposal

Blogging is a subtle talent; not everyone armed with a laptop can do it. I, for one, have struggled to please the ever eager hordes of readers, urging for a consistent update to justify their frequent visits. Yet, when I found something relatively interesting to write about, especially since it was a long one, it was swallowed away into nothingness by the volatile void that is the internet. Such is my fate. No matter. It was all unproductive ranting anyway.

So pardon the simplicity of my updates, for I cannot boast of an extensive memory. You should have expected less of me, friends. The following is but a part of all that I wrote. I believe the gist of my lost literary labour should be sufficient. And then brace yourselves. It’s a long one.

I attended my cousin’s wedding dinner yesterday. It was a typical Chinese dinner; an elaborate but bland feast of the usual dishes, each arriving individually yet continuously, whetted by a wide selection of liquor. It was also a typical Chinese wedding; where the shouting and swearing of a drunken party is customary as are the newest fad of nuptial entertainment: impromptu rhythm-less lyric shouting of inappropriate songs of lost loves and tearful break-ups.

That was the gist of all that I wrote. Yet, more importantly, is the revelation that I had when I was bored there. As my eardrums take the beating of their lives (even though I had trumpets literally blaring inches away from my ears before), and with no refuge in sight, I pondered…

(My mom is going to kill me for this.)

If, or when depending on whom you ask, I ever plan to get married; it doesn’t really matter where the exchange of vows will be held. You want a garden wedding? So be it. You want to invite your school friends you haven’t met for over a decade? Not a problem. You want everything to be in French? Bien sûr. You want to release a thousand doves? Uh… let me check the budget. My only requests if (or when) I get married is this:

We skip dinner. Let us abscond to our honeymoon immediately.

A wise friend once told me that honeymoons are not as attractive as first thought. It brings about unnecessary stress, especially if the trip is to a foreign land. Being so far away, the newly weds will most probably be torn between the need to cherish the opportunity to visit such a place and do all the touristy things; versus growing more intimate and indulge in acts recently married couples do. How likely it is then to fully enjoy such excursions?

As much as I agree there are some merit to that argument, even the romance-deficient guy I am would rather pamper ourselves to brace for all that is to come. I believe the trick to get the best of both worlds is the proper selection of destination. Instead of going anywhere remotely romantic, let us simply rent a suite in any of those exotic resorts as long as they are 1) spacious enough to maneuver in; 2) offer the services of masseuses; and 3) provide room service.

There, where we can lie on the bed the whole day if we choose to, without the need to explore whole countries within a week. There, where we can explore other things in private, interrupted only when we want to by room service and the occasional massage. There, where we interrupt our city lives and its daily routines, and discover what it is like to be together. There, where we discover but a slice of what is to come for the rest of our lives.

Nevertheless, let us not forsake our friends, our family. Let us have our dinner then, in individual groups, separate and personal. Let us segregate them to the periods of our lives and meet all who are the closest but meet none of the ‘related’ strangers. Let us free our love ones the strain of shouting for what little attention we can spare them, and wholeheartedly enjoy their company. Let us not struggle over one dinner, but let us revel in many.

Now, all I need is to find that special someone. And convince her, the truth to my words. =)

p.s. Concur? Disagree? Confused? Drop me a comment or two.