If I had been more pig-headed, a week ago, instead of boarding the Eurostar for Paris, I would have been boarding the plane home. Yes, Paris almost didn't happen. And it's quite amazing that we had to travel thousands of miles away to have our 1st big fight.
It takes a lot of physical closeness and time to really get to know somebody. That is what I realised on this trip. 4 years may be coming on and by, but in truth, it was only in the last 2 weeks that we have really come to know each other.
Was it for the better? Or did it bring things to turn for the worse? I have yet to figure that one out. After all, without the trepidations of Barcelona, this trip was really about the good, the bad and the down-right ugly. Well, mostly the Barbsie ugly - yes, I was as loaded as Barbsie could only be.
My mum says I am fortunate: that he is the sort who would bite his tongue and let me fuss and fume cos that way there would be no fuel to my fire. And I am thinking here - eventually all that biting is gonna take a toil. And then what?
As dreams of walking through the streets of Paris plagues my sleep (still!), I am grappling with a number of things. And I am glad of this harsh reality of coming back to the real world and work. It is giving me a time-out to clear my head, ponder on things (said and done!) and I suppose, if it doesn't kill us, it'll only make us stronger (I hope!).
But at the end of it all, I am glad Paris almost didn't happen. And also glad that it did. Now if only I can see the wisdom in all that.
It takes a lot of physical closeness and time to really get to know somebody. That is what I realised on this trip. 4 years may be coming on and by, but in truth, it was only in the last 2 weeks that we have really come to know each other.
Was it for the better? Or did it bring things to turn for the worse? I have yet to figure that one out. After all, without the trepidations of Barcelona, this trip was really about the good, the bad and the down-right ugly. Well, mostly the Barbsie ugly - yes, I was as loaded as Barbsie could only be.
My mum says I am fortunate: that he is the sort who would bite his tongue and let me fuss and fume cos that way there would be no fuel to my fire. And I am thinking here - eventually all that biting is gonna take a toil. And then what?
As dreams of walking through the streets of Paris plagues my sleep (still!), I am grappling with a number of things. And I am glad of this harsh reality of coming back to the real world and work. It is giving me a time-out to clear my head, ponder on things (said and done!) and I suppose, if it doesn't kill us, it'll only make us stronger (I hope!).
But at the end of it all, I am glad Paris almost didn't happen. And also glad that it did. Now if only I can see the wisdom in all that.
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