Prolly, Prolly, Prolly

you won't admit you love me
and so how am i ever to know
you always tell me
perhaps perhaps perhaps
a million times i've asked you
and then
i ask you over
again
you only answer
perhaps perhaps perhaps
if you can't make your mind up
we'll never get started
and i don't wanna wind up
being parted
broken-hearted
so if you really love me
say yes
but if you don't dear
confess
and please don't tell me
perhaps perhaps perhaps
perhaps perhaps perhaps
if you can't make your mind up
we'll never get started
and i don't wanna wind up
being parted
broken-hearted
so if you really love me
say yes
but if you don't dear
confess
and please don't tell me
perhaps perhaps perhaps
perhaps perhaps perhaps
perhaps perhaps perhaps

I always like this classic song entitled (you guess it) Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps, and it is an English adaptation of the Spanish song Quizás, quizás, quizás, popularised by the late Nat King Cole.

The song harks back to the uncertain yet exciting period in my life during which my friendship flourished with my anamcara - my soulmate - alongside other pent-up emotions. Cliché as it may sound, exploring a relationship at the expense of a friendship found its way into our equation.

I'd be lying to say everything was smooth sailing once we decided to become a couple. There were many kinks that needed to be ironed out, and many issues to clear the air. To say the ups and downs of our dating phase has taught us immensely about ourselves is in itself an understatement.

Suddenly finding yourself having to answer to another human being, and feeling an inexplicable attachment to this person are two of the many new and unexpected sensations that kick in once you know you're hooked for good. Conversely, unwanted hang-ups surfaced and snowballed in every imaginable ugly forms. How ironic that we hurt the one we love through our callous actions and caustic words.

In our case, no matter how hard we had tried to deny ourselves a second chance, we gravitated towards one another like a bunch of horseshoe crabs (that's Belangkas in Malay). That's what you call Fate, or Jodoh in Malay.

With his birthday today, nothing is more apropos than to embrace - literally and figuratively - the man whom I have shared the roof with for almost four years.

An enigma to many, a charmer to some, and a lover to one - my husband is the proverbial backbone to our fledgling family, a source of strength for my down days as well as the driving force behind my foray into blogging and writing.

It was him who suggested that I should pen down my thoughts and cast them into the electronic oblivion for the sake of posterity and my sanity. Wary and awkward about exposing myself to world, he assured me of the advantages to the outlet that I was about to embark.

And of course, he was right. He is always right, well at least most of the time. :)

A big Madonna fan, a Harry Potter aficionado, a LOTR loyalist, a non-athlete (like moi), an interior-design fiend, an alpha cook, a fashion enthusiast and a metrosexual, I love him on all those scores and then some.

His outward nonchalance belies the concern and pride he has towards things and people that matter to him. Once the sarcasm comes out however, by all means take cover! Haha!

As we celebrate your thirty-ahem birthday, I would like to wish you dear the best in realising your yearly goals, and pray for our continued health and familial bliss.

In spite and because of the years we have been together, I am still that wide-eyed girl who adores you immensely. And you remain the mysterious boy whose roguish grin has captured my heart and soul.

Unequivocally.