Translation: Angry angry
Hahah. Ok I just have this itch to blog, but I’ve got work waiting so this shall be short and
I thought of just recording this down, for memory’s sake.
The mister and I has officially had 2 arguments over the wedding. I know, like it’s some big news to announce right?
Angry words were exchanged, but in the end both of us came out of the tiffs with the same sentiment: we just can’t wait to have the wedding over and done with. So that we can go for our honeymoon
and unleash the virginal but horny sex creatures we are and just go on to live a quiet married life. (Of course, punctuated with adventurous travel every few months or so.)
The trip to JB to get fake flowers for the gubahan hantaran (wedding gift tray decoration)
Some weeks ago we had gone to see his godmother aka former neighbour, who’s like a second mother to him and his twin, about the gubahan. Let’s call her Cik I. Previously, when my older sister by 6 years got married, it was my SIL who helped do up her gubahan. However, since she is now busier with two kids, my mom thought of not troubling her with the task. When she heard that my mister had someone who was doing his, and was willing to do mine too, she agreed to my idea of just letting Cik I do it.
For some reason, although I started off this wedding planning with the intention to care more about the budget than the concept or appearance of things, lots of bride-to-be blog reading (you guys ah…. bad, BAD, BAD influence on me hahahah) and wedding googling made me want a certain look for the gubahan. No, I didn’t want the fancy schmancy acrylic box or couture cages or pop art
fart trays. I just wanted simple but elegant flowers, with a certain kind of tray in a certain colour.
So, when we went to see Cik I, she took out the trays that she had previously used for her son’s gubahan. It was similar to the kind of tray that I wanted, but the colour wasn’t. In my mind, I thought, maybe I could ask arount and borrow or rent white trays.And then when I looked at her collection of fake flowers, I wasn’t so confident of her being able to produce the look that I want. Of course, she said she would get new ones, according to what I wanted, but me being the control freak that I can be sometimes, thought that it’s best I get the flowers myself.
Cue the mister into the story. He saw my reaction that day at Cik I’s house (my lovely man is always so observant and sensitive to my expressions – or maybe I’m just really bad at hiding my true feelings aka I wear my heart on my sleeve.. why sleeve ah? So funny this English language.) So later after that, he told me that his close friend S has a share in some flower shop and he could get them for a good price. We started exchanging photos of flowers over WhatsApp; I gave him examples of what I liked, he showed them to his friend S and replied me with the flowers in his collection.
Flowers available at the flower shop:
I thought that my mister was just being his usual scrooge self; that he was participating in a conversation about flowers with me because of the fact that he had a contact who could give him a good price. In other words, I took it for granted rather than noticing that he really was getting involved in this whole wedding thing (when before, he was pretty nonchalant, taking on a “let everyone else settle things for me and I just come up with the money” attitude); he was getting involved for my sake, so that I would be happy with the outcome.
I only took notice when several days later he texted me, all of a sudden, saying “Sayang I found a place in JB that sells fake flowers let’s go”. This man doesn’t use appropriate punctuation, if at all, and if he had just put an exclamation mark somewhere I might have caught on that he really was excited and that he wanted to do something for me that would make me happy. Nonetheless, I was pleasantly surprised and agreed that we should go.
However, me being me, I started putting on hopes to go to this other place that I had
heard about read about in JB which is a wholesale place for all things Malay wedding-related, at Taman Perling. I had been wanting to go there ever since I read about it on nurinmarie’s blog, but I had neither transport nor company then. Now that the mister had offered to drive me to JB to get fake flowers, I thought: this is my chance. Which was really the cause of the argument.
*Two days or so before the day we were supposed to go JB, I suggested going to Taman Perling instead of Southern City Mall, where he wanted to bring me.
He said no need, let’s just go to Southern City as he knows where it is.
I said: But this place has a lot more stuff, and they’re probably cheaper too because it’s wholesale.
He said no.
I said: This Taman Perling place has many more things.. trays, ribbons, decorative items.. the place you want to go probably only has fake flowers.
He said no.
I said: How do you know? You’ve been there?
Getting irritated, he said: Of course la..then how do you think I know about it? And how do you think I know how to go there? We just go to the place I know ok.
Ignoring the signs of an argument starting, I persisted. I took a screenshot off Google Maps to show him the route and told him: See there’s a map we can follow.
He said: No, I don’t know the roads in JB. This is not Singapore. Let’s just go to Southern City.
I said: We can figure it out. We can ask around.
He said: No, this is not Singapore where it’s ok to get lost.
I said: Come on, it would be an adventure.
His answer? Still no.
Annoyed, frustrated, and fearing that my one chance of going to Taman Perling was slipping away, I resorted to what could have been the deal-breaking declaration.
I said: You’re so not adventurous! How are we going to get around during our honeymoon? We’ll never see the island (side note: yes, we are honeymooning on an island) with you like this!
I had thought that making such a declaration would be equal to a challenge to his ego, and I was really hoping his pride couldn’t take it and he would rise up to the challenge and reply with something like: I am adventurous! I’ll prove it to you! Let’s go to Taman Perling!
At least, I myself might have responded in that manner to such a declaration (I actually like figuring out maps and consider myself adventurous, and have harboured dreams of being on The Amazing Race.) Alas, he is not me. He took my declaration as an insult instead, and told me so.
I had stubbornly held on to the hope and great desire to go to this Taman Perling place that I really went all out, trying all means and even resorting to insulting him. That’s really one character flaw of mine: when I want what I want, my laser sharp tongue takes over and to hell with how others feel – and the ones closest to me, the ones who love me and whom I love most are usually the ones on the receiving end of it. And as hard as it is for me to admit it, perhaps I do really have the spoilt youngest-child syndrome; always insisting on getting my way, seboleh-boleh sampai tak boleh.
Which, in this case, almost became tak boleh (won’t do) because the mister, also being the youngest child (he has an older brother and is the younger of fraternal twins), being equally stubborn and hard-headed, lost his cool and declared that we should just forget it and that he won’t bring me to JB at all.
Instead of being apologetic right away, I was already in argument (and egoistic) mode and I denied that what I said was an insult, that it was actually a fact that just so happened to hurt his ego, and that he was letting his ego take over in his decision-making. But at the same time, fearing that he might really stay true to his words and cancel the whole trip, I told him he doesn’t need to overreact and that he’s the driver; no matter how much I want to go to that place, if he wasn’t going to drive there, then what could I do? And that we could still just go to Southern City Mall.
I can just imagine some of you who are reading this go: Macam siak ah ini perempuan, dah salah tak tahu buat hal salah, tak tahu pujuk, tapi ada hati nak make sure masih dapat pergi JB. Dahlah perangai bagai Belanda minta tanah, lepas tu nak menegakkan benang yang basah pula. Hahahah okay that last part with the 2 peribahasa is all me and I doubt any of you would think like that, but I just can’t help adding it in. Side note: This is exactly what I mean when I say Malay is the language of my soul; it conveys so much more than what English can, be it colloquial pasar Malay (or minah-speak, as my mister would say) or refined, high-context Malay.
So yes, that really was an (ugly) bridezilla moment for me, and I’m not proud of it. I write this down just so I remember and hopefully, I won’t display such tendencies again. Time and again, I am reminded of how so fortunate I am that I have my mister as my mister – honestly I don’t know how he puts up with all my character flaws (and the above illustration is one of many) for so long and still wants to spend the rest of his life with me. I am thankful for his stabilising presence in my life, even for his sometimes merciless words and no-nonsense actions because really, I deserve such hard knocks to my huge ego and flawed character to make me a better person.
Ok after going awwwwww (haha), I’m sure you guys want to know what happened in the end, right? Well the next day, as the aftermath of the argument, I sobered up and apologised and pleaded with him to bring me to JB, and to JB we did go.
Haha wait, actually there’s Argument #2! Which is also related to the gubahan! Aiseyman, ini benda gubahan betul-betul berhantu lah! That’s another story for another post.
*The account of what happened is just a reenactment from memory, not a word-by-word, in-correct-sequence copy-paste job from the WhatsApp conversation.
**I know I didn’t put a double asterisk anywhere above, but I just wanted to say, should I ever in the future really write a short post when I say it would be a short post, the first person to comment or like gets a prize, ok! Hahahah.
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