If other people overheard they would have certainly thought that I was some millionaire's mistress. In reality, we already had a car and a house. All he did was changing the ownership from his name to mine.
Being a miserable wretch with this much misfortune really stretches out your patience.
I once made a humorous PowerPoint presentation for Pig that summarized our married life and demanded him to be grateful for my benevolent caretaking.
I once went to Hong Kong and bought a copy of the game Twister. When we played it felt like we were doing yoga on top of each other.
That year for Valentine's Day I invented the game "Intimate Little Tips." The game goes like this: within five minutes, each player must write down the other player's strong points on a piece of note paper. Then, each player sticks their note paper on the other player's body. Whoever writes the most, wins. The loser must submit to the will of the winner, doing whatever he or she commands.
Our game went something like this.
Pig wrote the following: beautiful, graceful and friendly; generous, open-minded and happy; energetic, tough and family-loving; strong character and high EQ; thoughtful and intellectually independent; simple, law-abiding and fearless; clear-cut, kindhearted and efficient; loyal, competent and opinionated; intuitive, tasteful and fashionable; affectionate, cultured and decent; frank, adorable and full of love.
Near the bottom of the paper, he added one last word, "Tender!"
The following is what I wrote for Pig: likes Garfield; can swim, skate and ski; often downloads cute movies; drives me around; has long legs; never makes me violate my own conscience; a good photographer; high degree of survivability and always pursues the best life; outwardly cold but passionate inside; good at making money; knows how to enjoy life; likes to role-play a spoiled child; good and educated; gives treats to stray cats; keeps cool when I flip out; cooks well; tolerant; admires me; reluctant to give me money but does what's best for the family; a little romantic; good at imitating funny cartoon characters.
After reading each other's notes, I flew into a rage, first beating the bed with my fists before picking up a rolling pin and chasing Pig around the room. How was I supposed to believe that the person he described was me? I had to make him confess — who was he really thinking about when he wrote all those compliments down? Me, tender?
Pig repeatedly cried out for forgiveness as I yanked on his ears. Blushing with resentment, he finally gave in, doing "ant walk" as I asked!
He was referring to the dancer Yang Liping in Impression of Yunnan, who was famous for her suggestive dancing style where she and another man would lay on top of one another in the push-up position and walk like ants.
Within a few seconds, we both collapsed to the floor from exhaustion.
Now, having gotten past six years of marriage, most of our anniversaries have faded from memory. Only when I see the prices of flowers on the street sharply go up can I then realize the next day is Valentine's Day. Or one always says to the other, "Hey, just give me some cash for my birthday." We've begun to give each other gifts at random, regardless of what day it currently is. Piggy key chains, Ipod, CDs.
Our days float by like autumn leaves. Sooner or later they fall. All that we can hope for is that they look beautiful as they fall because when the tree goes bare, it is all that we have.
There were also times when we would fabricate special occasions. When you're flooding with desire, you have to give yourself something to chew on.
For example:
"Let's go eat Japanese food."
"Why?"
"Today is the day that we got back together after our first fight!"
"Today I want to buy a green tea flavored cake!"
"Why?"
"Today is our anniversary for the first time you sent flowers to my office!"
"Give me a present."
"Why should I?"
"Today is the day we first halfway broke up a few years ago!"
"I …"
"If you can't remember important days like these, clearly I am not important to you! I know that you are a responsible guy at heart, you just have moments of negligence. Now you must be extremely regretful, but as penance you can take me shopping and buy me something to wash away your guilt.
…
In moments like these, Pig always got a weird expression on his face. I've always felt that the muscles on his face were doing the belly dancing. Unbelievable but charming and fascinating.
Anniversaries are contradictions. Life is always full of them. Some are good and some are bad. They are mixed together like meat and fat on a strip of pork belly.
