Love a Man Who Lets You Sing and More Things I’ve Done Right

We're six days shy of our 13th wedding anniversary. But given that tomorrow is Valentine, I thought I'd hit two dates with one post.  The Hubby has been in couplehood with me for 18 years, and we have known each other for almost 31 years, which is three-fourths of our lives. This is my annual cheesy tribute. Last year, I shared how I did right in loving a man who cooks. This year, I realize how grateful I am that I love a man who also lets me sing.

Most people who know me know that I my musical skills can be...underwhelming (I am being kind to myself). The Hubby, however, The Hubby can sing. He used to be a choir boy. And he can play the piano. I know I've told this story many times, but on our first out of town trip to the beach, he sang You Take My Breath Away (Tuck & Patti version) while we held hands in the sea and baby sharks swam by. I still get twitterpated thinking of it.

And so we have been on the road quite often, The Hubby and I, these past months, moving our lives up to Baguio, and going back down to Manila to tie up loose ends. The past two trips, we've done without the girls. It's a five-hour drive one way, with an hour of nothing but farm fields, and maybe another hour and a half of expressway. I usually sleep on the drives (because we often travel early mornings to avoid the traffic) but lately The Hubby has been asking me to stay awake to help him stay awake, especially through that stretch of farmlands on the TPLEX (bear with me; I'm getting to my main point).

The picturesque, if seemingly endless fields, that we drive through

Anyway, there's not much to do during the drive. Except talk, which sometimes The Hubby doesn't like doing, especially if it's the inane topics I chatter about (in fairness, we do get a decent amount of good, deep, and yes, sometimes inane conversations going; just not all the time). So what else is there to do? Sing. Sing along with the only decent radio station we can get on those long stretches: 96.3 EZ Rock. Which plays the songs that I know the lyrics of. Every. Single. One.

Imagine sitting beside me as I sing, eyes closed, with all out emotions. Sometimes with hand gestures, sometimes with my head bopping. Imagine sitting beside me doing all that, as the car hurtles through the darkness, or (during the daytime) through endless fields. Imagine sitting beside me in that car, for five hours. Now imagine the endless patience of The Hubby as he sits through all that.

Now tell me I didn't do right.

That's me, singing our first dance song with full out emotion, and that's Gil, realizing that he has to live with this enthusiasm-over-talent singing for the rest of his life


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