Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow

"Tonight you're mine completely

You give your love so sweetly

Tonight the light of love is in your eyes

But will you love me tomorrow?"

Our first date anniversary is coming up, and my head is buzzing with ideas and excitement on how I can properly commemorate it. Some people might not remember the exact date of the first date with their significant other. I still remember it with clarity though, it's not everyday that you fly all the way to another island 621 miles/1000 km away just to meet a stranger that you've only been chatting with for a mere couple of days. We met. Both of us were very happy. Both of us immediately fell in love with each other. Yet that night and the two nights afterwards as I cuddle with him I can't help thinking, "Will you still love me tomorrow?".

For the next two year the phrase stuck to me. I cherished all the times we met in person, which in total didn't even qualify for a full month out of the 18 months of our long distance relationship; yet each time I sleep next to him, each time I kissed him goodbye at the airport before his flight home I still asked that question to myself: "Will you still love me tomorrow?". I asked the same question to myself almost everyday during that period, as a matter of fact. There are too many things that can go wrong in normal relationship, let alone a long distance relationship. He could become too attached to his co-worker that he often lunched with. He could developed a sense of wanting for his friend that he sometimes hangs out with. He could decide that getting back to the mother of his son or the mother of his daughter (take a pick) is much reasonable for the sake of the kid. He could think that this long distance relationship, and my love, is just not worth the trouble. 

Even when I finally got my visa I still asked that question. Even when I was on the plane to US I still asked that question. Even when I got married I still asked that question. Even when I receive my green card I still asked that question. But then it stopped. Somewhere along the line, between our arguments and threats hurled in our anger, we decided that nothing will change. That when tomorrow comes we will still be there for each other. And then we fall into the comfort zone, letting ourselves to be absorbed by our day-to-day task and menial life problems without thinking whether one of us will still be there tomorrow. Of course we will still be together. Why shouldn't we? Like the engagement ring that was once so precious when we first got it, it became almost unnoticeable now that I am wearing it every day. Such is our love and appreciation towards each other that loses its glimmer now that we are so sure that we'll have each other forever.

This morning I was debating myself on whether or not I should write about this. Nobody wants to admit that their ideal and perfect relationship is in fact, not ideal and not perfect. I don't want people to think I and/or my husband are doing a poor job on keeping our relationship alive and well. But does the stagnancy really means that we are doing a poor job? Or is it a part of the nature? 

I am sure that this is something that everyone can relate to: when you first got your smartphone you were as protective as a mother hen with her only chick, you promised that you will protect it from any harm and swore you will forever love it and cherished it as the item that has bring you the most joy in life; fast forward three or four moths later it is battered and scratched and you look at the latest gadget in store with such envy and longing and thinking "why isn't my phone as cool as that?!". When I first move to my apartment in LA I was distressed with the fact that we do not have bath tub, and every time we went to Arizona and stayed at a place with bath tub I made sure that I soak myself at least 30 minutes in the blissful hot water. Now that it is somewhat established that I will definitely find a bath tub whenever we visit Arizona, I don't really care whether I even use the bath tub or not. We put emphasize on something that we think is precious, and we consider something precious when it is difficult to get or has high value to us that we might not get from other things. When it became the part of our daily life though, it started to lose its value and its worth. We started to take it for granted because we ignorantly think it will still be there tomorrow. Your phone. Your car. Your apartment. Your jewelry. Your DVD collection. Your job. Your friend. Your spouse.

I remember the sweet agony I felt when my husband and I were still in the long distance relationship. Every "I love you" counts. Every "You are special" holds their meaning. Every "Thank you love" worth the world to me. Today we kissed and we hugged each other before he went to work, but there was no sweet agony there or flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness. He will be home this afternoon, just like he did yesterday. And just like the other days. The same old routine that we repeat every day, living the life with the knowledge that he/I will be there tomorrow for the rest of our life. But will we? Life is full of uncertainty, and anytime our daily routine could be ripped apart. A sudden life-threatening situation, for instance, like accident or illness or nature's catastrophe. He/I could somehow meet our significant other, the real person that is meant for him/me, and decided that instant that he/I don't want to be together anymore. He/I could simply wake up in the morning and decided that the love is gone, just like one would wake up and decided he/she doesn't want to eat pancake ever again. And when that happened, when I don't have him or his love anymore tomorrow, or if I don't love him anymore, what would I do?

The question "Will you still love me tomorrow" is bittersweet because it showed that the questioner to (some degree) does not believe the person in question. And we all need trust in relationship, are we not? Yet at the same time, it is important to remember that nothing last forever. It is important to realize that what we have now can easily be gone the next day or even the next second, that we are in fact powerless to keep something forever. It keeps you on the edge and on guard, it keeps the precious stay precious. I listened to the song again and again as I wrote this article, and with every words The Shirelles sang I compiled a list of beautiful memory that I have with my husband and determined to cherish every last one, even the ones that might seemed menial and unimportant. Because even though I know he love me today, tomorrow there is a chance that he will (or can) not. At least that's how I choose to think.

"Is this a lasting treasure

Or just a moment's pleasure?

Can I believe the magic of your sighs?

Will you still love me tomorrow?"