When You Divorce Me, Carry Me Out in Your Arms

On my wedding day, I carried my wife in my arms. The bridal car stopped in front of our one-room flat. My buddies insisted that I carry her out of the car in my arms. So I carried her into our home. She was then plump and shy. I was a strong and happy bridegroom.

This was the scene ten years ago.

The following days were as simple as a cup of pure water: we had a kid; I went into business and tried to make more money. When the assets were steadily increasing, the affection between us seemed to ebb. She was a civil servant. Every morning we left home together and got home almost at the same time. Our kid was studying in a boarding school.

Our marriage life seemed to be enviably happy. But the calm life was more likely to be affected by unpredictable changes. Dew came into my life. It was a sunny day. I stood on a spacious balcony. Dew hugged me from behind. My heart once again was immersed in her stream of love.
This was the apartment I bought for her. Dew said, you are the kind of man who best draws girls' eyeballs. Her words suddenly reminded me of my wife. When we were just married, my wife said, Men like you, once successful, will be very attractive to girls.

Thinking of this, I became somewhat hesitant. I knew I had betrayed my wife. But I couldn't help doing so. I moved Dew's hands aside and said you go to select some furniture, O.K.? I've got something to do in the company. Obviously she was unhappy, because I had promised to do it together with her. At the moment, the idea of divorce became clearer in my mind although it used to be something impossible to me.

However, I found it rather difficult to tell my wife about it. No matter how mildly I mentioned it to her, she would be deeply hurt.

Honestly, she was a good wife. Every evening she was busy preparing dinner. I was sitting in front of the TV. The dinner was ready soon. Then we watched TV together. Or, I was lounging before the computer, visualizing Dew's body. This was the means of my entertainment.

One day I said to her in a slightly joking way, suppose we divorce, what will you do? She stared at me for a few seconds without a word. Apparently she believed that divorce was something too far away from her. I couldn't imagine how she would react once she got to know I was serious.

When my wife went to my office, Dew had just stepped out. Almost all the staff looked at my wife with a sympathetic eye and tried to hide something while talking to her. She seemed to have got some hint. She gently smiled at my subordinates. But I read some hurt in her eyes.

Once again, Dew said to me, He Ning, divorce her, O.K.? Then we live together. I nodded. I knew I could not hesitate any more.

When my wife served the last dish, I held her hand. I've got something to tell you, I said. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn't know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I want a divorce. I raised the serious topic calmly.

She didn't seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I'm serious. I avoided her question. This so-called answer made her angry. She threw away the chopsticks and shouted at me, you are not a man!

That night, we didn't talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer, because my heart had gone to Dew.

With a deep sense of guilt, I drafted a divorce agreement which >stated that she could own our house, our car, and 30% stake of my company. She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. I felt a pain in my heart. The woman who had been living ten years with me would become a stranger one day. But I could not take back what I had said.

Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer.

Late that night, I came back home after entertaining my clients. I saw her writing something at the table. I fall asleep fast. When I woke up, I found she was still there. I turned over and was asleep again.

She brought up her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but I was supposed to give her one month time before divorce, and in the month's time we must live as normal a life as possible. Her reason was simple: our son would finish his summer vacation a month later and she didn't want him to see our marriage was broken.

She passed me the agreement she drafted, and then asked me, He Ning, do you still remember how I entered our bridal room on the wedding day?

This question suddenly brought back all those wonderful memories to me. I nodded and said, I remember. You carried me in your arms, she continued, so, I have a requirement, that is, you carry me out in your arms on the day when we divorce. >From now to the end of this month, you must carry me out from the bedroom to the door every morning.

I accepted with a smile. I knew she missed those sweet days and wished to end her marriage romantically.

I told Dew about my wife s divorce conditions. She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. No matter what tricks she does, she has to face the result of divorce, she said scornfully. Her words more or less made me feel uncomfortable.

My wife and I hadn't had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed. We even treated each other as a stranger. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is holding mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly, Let us start from today, don't tell our son. I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went to wait for a bus, I drove to the office.

On the second day, both of us acted much more easily. She leaned on my chest. We were so close that I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn't looked at this intimate woman carefully for a long time. I found she was not young any more. There were some fine wrinkles on her face.

On the third day, she whispered to me, the outside garden is being demolished. Be careful when you pass there.

On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I seemed to feel that we were still an intimate couple and I was holding my sweetheart in my arms. The visualization of Dew became vague.

On the fifth and sixth day, she kept reminding me something, such as, where she put the ironed shirts, I should be careful while cooking, etc. I nodded. The sense of intimacy was even stronger. I didn't tell Dew about this.

I felt it was easier to carry her. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. I said to her, It seems not difficult to carry you now. She was picking her dresses. I was waiting to carry her out. She tried quite a few but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, all my dresses has grown bigger. I smiled. But I suddenly realized that it was because she was thinner that I could carry her more easily, not because I was stronger. I knew she had buried all the bitterness in her heart. Again, I felt a sense of pain. Subconsciously I reached out a hand to touch her head.

Our son came in at the moment. Dad, it's time to carry mum out. He said. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had been an essential part of his life. She gestured our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face because I was afraid I would change my mind at the last minute. I held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly, as if we came back to our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.

On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. She said, actually I hope you will hold me in your arms until we are old.

I held her tightly and said, both you and I didn't notice that our life lacked intimacy.

I jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my decision. I walked upstairs. Dew opened the door. I said to her, Sorry, Dew, I won't divorce. I'm serious.

She looked at me, astonished. The she touched my forehead. You got no fever, she said. I moved her hand off my head. Sorry, Dew, I said, I can only say sorry to you, I won't divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn't value the details of life, not because we didn't love each other any more. Now I understand that since I carried her into the home, she gave birth to our child, I am supposed to hold her until I am old. So I have to say sorry to you.

Dew seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove to the office.

When I passed the floral shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet for my wife which was her favorite. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, I'll carry you out every morning until we are old...

Treat your loved ones right

After 21 years of marriage, My wife wanted me to take another woman out to dinner and a movie.
She said, "I love you, but I know this other woman loves you and would love to spend some time with you."

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my MOTHER, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally.

That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie.

"What's wrong, are you well?" she asked.
My mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

"I thought that it would be pleasant to spend some time with you," I responded. "Just the two of us."

She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I would like that very much."

That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up, I was a bit nervous. When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her sweater on.

She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's. "I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear about our meeting."

We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady.

After we sat down, I had to read the menu. Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entries, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips. "It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she said .

"Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I responded.

During the dinner, we had an agreeable conversation nothing extraordinary but catching up on recent events of each other's life. We talked so much that we missed the movie.

As we arrived at her house later,she said,"I'll go out with you again,but only if you let me invite you."I agreed.

"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home. "Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered.

A few days later, my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her.

Some time later, I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined. An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I wasn't sure that I could be there; but nevertheless, I paid for two plates - one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you, son."

At that moment, I understood the importance of saying in time: "I LOVE YOU" and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve.

Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till "some other time."

This should be told to all the "mothers" in your life, and to everyone whoever had a mother. This isn't just about being a mother, it's about appreciating the people in your life while you have them
.... no matter who that person is.

Single or Attached ?

by J L Leow

Here’s an old chestnut for you: the grass is always greener on the other side. Always. No matter what you apply the saying to, it’s true. It’s not a cliché for nothing, you know. In this case, what I’m talking about is –what else– the subject of getting into a relationship. It doesn’t matter if you are single or part of a couple, no matter which situation you find yourself in, occasionally you’re bound to start thinking of crossing the fence and dropping yourself into the opposite situation.

Call me crazy, but when I was girlfriend-less, I was desperate to get myself hitched. Perhaps not desperate, but itchy, at least. And once I found myself happily shackled to a girl, I began to see the merits of being single. All of a sudden, the grass on the other side had turned greener.

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt the same way. If you’re single, chances are you occasionally feel a twang of envy towards your attached friends, and if you’re attached, maybe you once in a while secretly long for the days when you belonged to nobody. There are pros and cons to either situations, of course.

Total Freedom
The pros of being single can be summed up in a single word: freedom! Freedom to watch football with your friends whenever you want, freedom to grow a mustache anytime you please, freedom to dress like a slob in public, freedom to chat up any girl you want, freedom to be free. It’s a heck of a lot easier on your pocket too, being single, because there’s less going out, less eating out, less cab fares to pay for, and no presents to buy.

On of the first things that hit me right between the eyes when I first started going out with the opposite sex was: this dating jazz is expensive. I used to rush my date home minutes before her midnight curfew, and after seeing her safely to the door, I would run out to the main road, only to find that he buses had stopped running, which meant having to take a cab home. At midnight fare, mind you. I had never been more broke in my life.

To Date Or Not To Date
The cons of being single bite you in the heart the first Friday night you encounter in which your best buddies are all out because they’re with their girlfriends, leaving you alone at home with nothing to do and nowhere to go. In which case, you just have to read magazines over and over and over. It’s not just Friday nights that sting, though. It’s fairly awful any day of the week when you’re lonely, and have no one to hold hands with but your bolster, which probably hasn’t got any hands anyway. And so, girls become and itch you have to scratch.

What are the pros of being attached? Well, that one’s fairly obvious. You always have someone there for you. There’s constantly a soft female form for you to cuddle up with on rainy days. You never have to worry on spending Saturday night by yourself. The list is long indeed. Girls are just special, in the way they laugh, the way they brighten automatically when you present them with flowers, the way they wrap your gifts with such tender loving care.

It’s a Vicious Cycle
Considering the cons of being attached brings us full circle back to the pros of being single – once situation really is just a flip-side of the other. When you’re attached, there’s less freedom, less money, and absolutely no chance of chatting up other babes, unless you fancy a black eye or a swift kick to the jingle bells.

What’s a guy to do? Beats me. If it’s true that the grass is always greener on the other side, then it means you’ll never be happy, because you’ll always be miserable on your own side. I guess you either can’t stand being single or you can’t stand being attached, which is probably why some guys remain happy bachelors for their entire lives, while others settle down as soon as they’re sure of having found the right one. Perhaps when you’ve finally pounced on the right girl, the grass just ceases to look greener on the other side anymore.

Or who knows? You might even stop peeking at the other side altogether.

Ouch! The final nail in my broken heart.

by Jason Tan

It was devastating news. I knew it would happen one day. But not so soon.

It has been only a year and a half since we said goodbye. How could she say yes to someone so quickly?

The night when it all ended -Aug 5, 1998- she had cried herself hoarse. Yes, it was all my fault.

We met the following week, to divide the money in our bank account and to take back our photos. She looked like a complete stranger. And a complete wreck. She had cut her hair short, something she said she would rather die than do because it made her look stupid. And then there were her swollen eyes. Eyes so pregnant with blame, they torched my heart.

From that moment, I knew we could never be back together. I could never face her again. When she left, there was a man waiting for her. She held his hands, probably to spite me. Fine, I said. By all means, you could rebound into a relationship days after we split for all I cared.

The truth is, deep down, I cared.

We called each other a few times after that. Call it mutual post break-up therapy, if you wish. We exchanged a few polite "How are you?" greetings. For the first time in four years, we were formal to each other. No more "hi dear" or "bye dear".

It was bizarre. Yet it never escaped me that we were done for good. Ours was like a mirror shattered to a thousand pieces, the damage complete.

Soon, we lost touch. I wouldn't know whether she missed me. But I thought of her a lot. Like when I drove. When I hit the bed each night. And when I travelled alone. I used to cry. But not anymore. And then it happened.

Last month, I went back to camp and met a former campmate who's her insurance agent. She's engaged, he told me matter-of-factly. My heart ran riot. There, amidst my noisy campmates, I tried to shut out of the shattering truth. But I couldn't. It was the final in the coffin. It was coming sooner or later. Ah, might as well make it sooner.

I asked the messenger: "When did they get engaged? When do they plan to get married?" He had no answer. But really, what difference would the answers make? I still won't be gracious enough to say she deserves a better man. Neither will I be crazy enough to ask her for another chance. Knowing her, it's pointless. I no longer have a place in her heart. Whether I cry or die, her life goes on as usual - unaffected.

Five minutes after the news broke, I was still numb. My heart was lost. My mind was blank. My soul was confused. Cry? Nah, no point. There comes a time when you've been so hurt, crying wont make you feel better. Scream? Nah, who cares? Hide? What for?

I have to move on. I have to accept the painful truth, tuck it under my pillow and live my life.

So I allowed myself to be upset for just a day. I thought of our happy moments, our crazy short trips, and how we used to read Cleo magazine cuddled together. I thought of her laughter, her smile and her wit. I missed her for one last time.

And then slowly I came to grips with the fact that she's now sharing her life with someone else. That the dreams we once built together were just that - dreams. That right now, she's building more beautiful dreams with her new man.

Slowly, the pain drifted away. And soon it would hurt no more. No matter how devastating it once was.