a true soldier

This is how I know my husband loves me.

It has been almost two years since I last saw Arthuz in a soldier’s uniform. I admit that he actually looks good in one. Besides the fact that the camos emanate machismo, he was happy wearing one. Airsoft was his passion. Make him choose between a nights of drinking with his buddies or one full day of shooting pellets at people, he will definitely choose the latter, everyday of the week twice on Sundays.

This passion first started a few days after our first wedding anniversary. We were honeymooning in Baguio when he brought up the idea of having a new hobby. He felt that he was done playing basketball and needed something to alleviate the stress of everyday fatherhood. He wanted to play airsoft. And being the ever supportive wife that I am, I said yes (blink*blink*). All he wanted from me was a gun, some accessories and a non-revocable permit to spend the whole of his Saturdays with his pseudo-soldier buddies. Easy, I though then. He could have his Saturdays as long as on Sundays, he’s mine. No ifs, no buts. Period. Boy, was I wrong.

I never realized how hard it was until after I started missing him at home on Saturdays. I know it was part of the deal but what can I do? I was so used to being with him everyday of my life. Topics over the dinner table would revolve around his new bruise, a new friend he met or a new accessory that he plans to add to his arsenal. I got tired hearing the same stories everyday. Why can’t we talk about the new pair of stilettos I saw at the mall the other day? Or Kris Aquino perhaps? Why do we always have to talk about guns and airsoft? It wasn’t music to my ears anymore. I grew tired.

Maybe he felt it. Maybe he didn’t. One thing about Arthuz is no matter how badly he wants something, if I don’t like it, he will not get it. Its always my happiness before his. So when he told me, one night that he was selling his collection – something he holds very dear in his heart, I knew it was because of me. I never told him to stop playing. But I guess he noticed that I was no longer the same happy wife each time he leaves and comes home. And the long talks over dinner became shorter. There were no more new friends he met, no more accessories to save for and no more bruises to show. I knew that it was almost over. I felt a little lump on my throat. It was like taking away a lollie from a little girl. I guess it’s like telling me to stop blogging. That must have hurt big time.

Like I said, I never told him to stop. But I didn’t offer any resistance when he did. He started to sell all his things and decided to devote more time to things I deemed worthwhile (like holding hands while watching house on dvd). He still shivers everytime we pass by an airsoft shop or chance upon a game site. But he never talked about going back. I am being selfish I know. But that’s how I know my husband loves me.

Oh yeah, I got new pairs of shoes, a few bags and a new set of wardrobe from the proceeds of his collection. How can one get this lucky?