2 Questions Every Girl is Asking Herself

Chapter 37

It's now or never. I'm heading back to Vancouver in two days. It's Friday afternoon, and I'm leaving on Sunday morning. I've got people to see, dinners to eat, phone calls to return, reunions to organize, errands to run, bank accounts to close, one thing after another, back-to-back booblie doo. Every relative wants last minute face time, Cloud called clamoring for a lunch slot. And I haven't slept in 30 hours.

But the person I want to see the most is Hong Wang. It might seem silly that such a brief encounter would leave such a deep impression. But sometimes in life, it's like this, isn't it? It's like Wang Lee Hom's song: [See right for music video]

This is a simple song,
It's nothing special.
Just like me,
So ordinary,
Yet so profound.

Hong Wang was ordinary. And he was profound. He reminded me of what love felt like.

When I was 17 or 18, just starting to go on dates with boys, I'd often wondered: What is love?

I would ask the veterans (other teenagers with bf/gf they claim to love), "What is it like? Why do you love so and so?"

They would often respond with a grown-up shrug, "I don't know. I just do. Can't explain it." Which, as you can imagine, is incredibly frustrating. I questioned privately, if they're really in love or just pretend to be, because I think if you really love someone, you do know why. If you can't articulate it, then think harder. If you haven't even bothered to pay attention to your lover's sterling qualities, how can you call this love? Don't toss it around casually like a filler word like "man" or "dude". Love is sacred.

It would take me years to understand the difference between romance, lust, love, and commitment. At the time, most of these words didn't even exist in my dictionary. The only word I thought about or cared for was Love. The night I turned 19, finally legal enough to step inside a nightclub, I felt like I'd entered an enchanted forest. Interested men started popping up like bamboo shoots after fresh rain. In the lineups. By the bar. On the dance floor. All I had to do was take a walk around the club and men would approach to chat. I was flattered by the attention. And felt invincible about love.

Until, I met Ed.

Ed was, is, a wonderful man. He is 5 years older than me. Half grew-up in Hong Kong, half in Canada. A moonlight motorcyclist, a daylight bank teller, an artist who pencils beauty on the page in any light.  His eyes are kind and brown. He forever endeared himself to me on our very first date, having washed his car especially for this occasion, and then apologizing for forgetting to dust the inside. Generous, considerate, romantic, a genteel gentleman. His presence felt like a thick pile of fluffy duvets, into which I could free fall from any height without fear, and snuggle into its deep embrace of pure softness.

With most other boys I liked, I wanted to see them once in a while, but with Ed, I wanted to see him every day. There's a Chinese phrase called "Tie xin", which literally translates as "stuck on the heart". This is what Ed was like to me, a diaphanous wrap that hugged my heart's every indentation. He drove me everywhere, paid for everything, surprised me with flowers, saved the ticket stubs from our movies, brought me breakfast to work, fed me medicine when I was sick, and played horror video games for hours on end, just so I could see what happened next. In the winter, as I sling on the coat to leave the house, he would stop in front of the door to button it up, as though tucking a baby in for bed. As the coat hugged me, and I hugged him, I felt so enveloped in bliss. When I told people about Ed, they told me I glowed. 

I asked a friend, a real veteran this time, (in her 30's, a wife and a mother), "I don't know, but I think I love him. What does love feel like?"

She smiled a knowing smile, "If you think you love him, then you love him."

Ah, so this is love.