When I was about 11 or 12 I was at a Wal-mart looking at the CDs while my Mom shopped for food in the Grocery section. By the way I don’t miss Wal-mart, if anything my distaste has increased and surely one day this superstore that sustains itself on the consumption of smaller businesses will collapse into itself one day and the villagers may be free once more…wow I really got off track on that one. Anyway, I was looking at the CDs and a boy came over, he was my age, he was cute, and he became my first ‘boyfriend.’ For the next hour, or ever how long it took my mom to finish shopping, we walked around the store holding hands and shared a Mountain Dew, and we were quite happy…at least until we left the store, I mean come on we were like 12, fickle creatures at best. Why would I share this story, a completely random account of childhood history? My friends it is an introductory. I’m going to share with you romantic stories of adults, if they had the same mindset as adolescents playing house.
I have a neighbor, I have many neighbors, but this one has a daughter a couple of years older than I am who moved back here from Alaska where here now ex-husband remains. I may have mentioned before that I helped her with some paperwork, and have had a great deal of time to talk to her about how ‘crazy he is’ and that she ‘really liked him.’ God bless her, she’s a sweet girl…anyway. She left for Tongatapu in November for the holidays and has returned, upon which we talked for a long while about her vacation and the gossip worth sharing. During her hiatus she had not one, but TWO moa’s of whom there were marriage possibilities. Alright so follow me closely here:
Bachelor #1 was someone she was supposed to marry like 6 years ago but it fell through when instead of coming here to our island to meet her parents he went to Samoa…oh young love, but as the Fates would have it they found each other again these many years later. They’re older, smarter, more mature…So Bachelor #1 confesses he still wants to marry her, she says ‘Ok,’ but he must come to Vava’u to properly ask the parents permission, as Mom and Dad do know best. Alas, history again repeats itself and instead of coming to meet the Fockers to ask for her long lost hand, he goes to Samoa again…sunrise, sunset.
The story of Bachelor #2 reminds me a little more of a cluster of 12 year old girls who should not be allowed to have cell phones. The account told to me goes as follows: ‘my friends and I were sitting at a table in a bar and one said she new a guy in Fiji, and I think I know him. So my friend calls the guy and I talk to him on the phone. He tells me that he really like me and that he wants to come here and we can be together. I tell him ok, but he has to come talk with my parents.’ Well of course, if it wasn’t for this requirement she may have had an estranged husband in Samoa by now. I don’t know what has happened with Mr. Fiji, but I’m sure I’ll know if he comes here for nuptials…or will I? That brings me to the next story.
I work with the older sister of the woman just mentioned. She doesn’t live in my village anymore but she still comes to work with the Youth Group. I saw her Thursday to return a movie that I borrowed. The Youth Group Secretary was there, the young guy who lives up the street from me, always very nice. There’s a strange vibe when I walk in, they look at me with one of those, “we know something that you don’t, and we’re not going to tell you what” looks. Don’t you hate that? I didn’t ask what was going on because I’m accustomed to being oblivious; I’m often loitering outside of ‘loops,’ unaware of happenings until well after they are disclosed to everyone else, then are no longer appealing with interest.
2 days later I found out that this loop wasn’t only a loop, but the mother load of gossip! Those two apparently got eloped! Ha, and man are Mom and Dad not fiefia…happy that is. One, they got eloped. Two, who knew they were even together? Three and this one’s not a big deal I guess, but here in this little nook of the world…she’s 10 years his senior and that is scandalous aupito (very). The most insane part of all and you can’t make this stuff up…Dad’s pissed because he’s not sure whether or not he’s related to the grooms Mom. BOMBSHELL!!! Where’s the popcorn and Raisinettes for this show???
So, the next day on a sunny Sunday afternoon there was the official church service that goes on after getting married; that I didn’t know about until I stopped by her parent’s house with cookies; good thing I do this a great deal. She was decked out with white and all the traditional garments and I couldn’t believe I would have to leave the next day for a week for boring old training when this is going on, but wait…the bride is meant to go with me to the training! Yes! I will know all the crazy happenings that have led up to this great scandal of the New Year.
Alas, that same day I asked if she was still going and she said no…yikes there’s a ticket floating around out there with her name on it. Don’t know about you guys, but my experience with plane tickets is that if you find out the day before you can’t go, and can’t at least go another time, you’re pretty much out the cost of a plane ticket. Well here, as long as you can find another body to take the place of the one lost, then everything is fine. You go in, give a name, and if it’s on the list then you go. No IDs required. It’s easier to get on a plane here than a crappy dance club in America where you not only pay ten bucks to get in, but 5 or 6 more for every Bud Light because they’re out of Miller Light, and your chances of being maimed by someone’s cigarette are higher
So, a ridiculously long drawn out story made short for your reading purposes; I found someone else within an hour, and I was very grateful that she didn’t get married before our 7am flight the next morning
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