The Last Mohican

November 29, 2009

I think I’m the only one that had it this way. I’m not kidding you.

When words got out that yours truly is getting married, long-lost friends from 28kg ago suddenly started to call and asked to chat over macchiatos and macarons.

See, they didn’t call to congratulate me, these are true friends and so they won’t do such mindless thing. They called to express their grave concerns over my decision to give up the forest for a skinny tree.

They were speaking from experiences and regrets, of course, except for the one from the closet who has actually memorized Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, in French, no less.

“But bros,” I said, “I have explored (some would say exploited) my forest reserve, that, and some around the world, and finally I found this matured white oak in Kajang.  And if you have any interest in carpentry you’d know the many virtues of matured white oak: it is not flashy, it is low maintenance, it ages gracefully, it is receptive to its surrounding environment, and most importantly it is a quiet kind of wood.”

“But women are not wood, Stevie,” they all screamed, “they’re not like us, they CHANGE!”

“They do?” I feigned surprise.

“Haiyooo, that’s why I say you don’t know what you’re getting into. Do you know where the word husbandry came from, Stevie?” Said Stephen the feihai, “they treat husbands like farm animals!”

And so one by one, in tears and in snot, they recounted their inventories of sorrows and misgivings in their marriages…and some stuff from Madame Bovary, translated into English.

Raymond was so overwhelmed by emotions he fainted and required a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. It was all quite heart breaking and dramatic, I tell you.

With sadness hanging in the air like a laundry job gone awry, the afternoon came to an end and Stephen, exhausted by the pain of speaking his memories, said: “Sleep over it, Stevie, you are our Last Mohican, okay, bro?”

“Okay, bro.” said I, and went to sleep.

You see, the way I look at it, Bonnie & Clyde were perfect couple, Mickey and Mallory were perfect couple, but they weren’t married. In fact, ALL perfect couples in our history since Moses came down from the stupid mountain weren’t married.

All except one, that is. The only perfect married couple I personally know of is Richard and Shari, my sister’s in-laws. But Richard is not a dapper bandit like Clyde, nor is he a smooth criminal like Mickey, Richard is a very decent man, “decent” in the truest sense of the word, and that level of decency is a prerequisite in a perfect marriage.

I’m not decent, not in the wildest sense of the word. I have a personal history most vile, and I also have debts that would put Haiti’s annual GDP to shame.

But I can be a good friend (with fringe benefits too).

When people are married for some time they forget to be friends.

And when that happens it’s the end of that marriage.

That much I know is true.


One Response to “The Last Mohican”

  1. richard and shari said


    You have described the secret of our marriage. We have always treasured our friendship above any other aspect of our relationship.

    Richard and I wish you all the best.


    PS We are truly delighted that our families have become intertwined.

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