The Choice Not Taken

I attended some sort of training at the company the other day, one thing lead to another and we were talking about the characteristics of a perfect wife. Being one of the eligible bachelors in the room, it was natural for the question to be directed to me.

I haven’t given much thought on this matter, so my answers were pretty clichΓ©: easy on the eyes, respectable towards the elders, a good cook just to name a few. I was only responding to the current situation, the truth in fact is quite the opposite.

It occurred to me that I wasn’t looking for specific points, rather by chance I already have one person in mind. She’s not the prettiest, and I doubt her cooking would satisfy my appetite. But the thing is, you don’t get to choose a partner the same way you do for other things.

Most would agree that mum’s cooking is the best. It may not be the most pleasing to look at, nor is it made with the finest ingredients, but to like mum’s cooking was never a choice either. It’s just that we grew up with the food, and whenever we have a sniff or a bite, our thoughts go to one thing only: mum.

You don’t get to choose who you fall in love with. it just happens.


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