Numero Uno?

I've been wondering about this for the longest time: do most people in love wish, or even demand, that they be placed numero uno in the lives of their partners? I actually suspect so, because of the various conversations I've had with friends. Well, I've never really talked about such stuff with the guys, but girlfriends have invariantly commented or suggested that they have to be number one, no doubt. Second place is not acceptable. Second place means their boyfriends care about something else more than them, and what can that something be? If it's football, those men are dead meat. If it's their guy buddies (y'know, the 'brotherhood' thing), so elicits the response "then what for be with me?". If it's their momma, the girlfriends would initially feel touched ("oh so sweet, still a mama's boy") but then eventually freak out because the whole 'evil mother-in-law' scenarios would play over and over again in their paranoid minds. All these spell nothing but trouble for the relationship.

Me? I'm not so sure actually. I suppose it would feel so on-top-of-the-world, so blissful to be regarded number one in someone else's life. I know that, because I know Piper regards me so.

But I've kinda resigned to the fact that I'm probably not number one in my man's life - well, I'm just contented enough to know I'm in the top three... I think... hmm, I hope. (Well, it'd better not be just in the top five, damn it.) And I surprise myself even, when I realize I'm pretty ok with that arrangement. Not words of self-consolation, I hope, but searching deep inside of me, I think I'm really contented with just being number three (see, not even number two).

Why all the sudden talk about this?

The Yix (I kinda like this nick, my dear Shanghainese friend gave it to him and I just think it's so Brad-Pitt-cool) played his second game last evening really hard. He gave it his all, even when the whole team was going down down down. He gave so much for the game, he gritted his teeth in pain (literally) and played it to the end even after he sprained his ankle early in the first period. Numerous times, he had to come off the court and taped his fat swollen ankle over and over again before hobbling back oncourt. And everytime he checked back into the game, all I was thinking was if he realized how much he's putting his job at risk. If his ankle gets really bad, he probably won't be able to report for work three days later. The way he was limping after the game really broke my heart.

So, from that night, I deduce the orders of things: basketball, work, me. Yeah, running on the basketball court beats flying.

And I'll tell ya why I'm ok with that.

Basketball is his life, in his blood. It turned his life around just when he was getting pretty messed up in his younger days. I can't tell you exactly how bad life could've turned out for him, but he breathed the game ever since a good friend advised him to vent 'it' all out in basketball. 'It', I suppose, would have been anger, frustrations, whatever. He adores Jordan. He dreams about playing basketball and has got hand-jerk movements while he sleeps, as if he were going for the hoop. He reads the game with such finesse, he tell mes so much about it with fervor.

Flying is his dream. His one and only dream, I suppose. It is going to be his life. And it'll be really terrible if you take someone's life away from him. I was the one who encouraged him to sacrifice two good years of his life to pursue his big dream. Despite his doubts, and mine. So, I know how much this job means to him.

Me? I'm just someone who's always been there for him and who loves him a lot, probably more so than he loves me. Someone who never quite demands anything from him, and who's always racking her brains out to help him out, to cheer him up, to surprise him in all sorts of crazy ways, hoping to add some spice into his life. Someone who does all these on her own accord, no condition attached. Ain't this quite a good deal for anyone?

All because I have big love in me, and that's how I believe loving someone should be. You can't really fault me for that, can you?

So, if you can't find someone else like me, get a dog.