I’ve been wondering lately if it’s ever possible to really know a person. That is to know them inside out, to see the inner corners of their mind, to fill in all the blank spaces and questions in your own mind about them.
Maybe it’s the wedding date getting closer thats got me thinking this. Maybe its age, or maybe it’s the fact that Gerry told me recently that he likes pickled onions.
Onions that are pickled.
This from the man who wouldn’t even eat eggs when we first met.
7 years together and one day, in the supermarket, he randomly mentions that he loves pickled onions. So much so that he grabbed a jar of them and put it in the shopping cart. I swear the earth shifted on its axis. I was so shocked by this pickled onion revelation that it got me thinking Do I even really know this man?! Who am I marrying? We continued the food shop, him chatting away and actually shopping for food, me with my mouth hanging open unable to speak starring at the alien jar of pickled onions in our basket wondering who this stranger was that I was shopping with. I think I genuinely would have been less baffled if he had confessed that he killed a man.
His twin brother moved to NZ last week. I had never met him before but he didn’t feel like a stranger. His imminent arrival opened the floodgates for more Who Are You stories, I was treated to a humorous anecdote about homemade bunk beds amongst others. (Spoiler: they were not well constructed, hilarious antics followed). Luckily the shock of the pickled onion incident had prepared me for such stories and although I was still surprised to hear these new childhood memories I was now able to welcome them to the narrative of the man I love.
I guess you can only ever know the things about a person that they choose to share with you. It’s up to them how much they reveal. But then again they are just things, moments, anecdotes of the past.
I know him.
Goddamn pickled onions.
Find my other social media channels at: