Waking up and falling in love

Before I met my husband, I thought I was happy.

It’s the kind of happiness where you put up with someone saying to your face that “I don’t know why, everytime I see your face I just feel sian.”. The kind of happiness where you sit afraid in the car after a car accident because for some reason, you feel that it was your fault even though it was his own. The kind of happiness where in your absence, his sisters’ would say nasty things about you and accuse you of something you did not do, and he would sit there playing on his computer and not speak a single word in your defence.

Of course, with hindsight as my friend,  I feel more than silly for thinking and telling people that I was in a happy relationship.

Then came the night at freshmen camp when someone spilled his drink all over me. It was close to midnight and my first thought was to get to the showers before the access door rejects my student pass, which it does past midnight. But someone dragged me back down to my seat as I was standing up, waved a threatening finger at me and warned me not to embarrass him and “leave like in front of all the freshmen”. So I sat there fighting back the tears, with some sticky drink dripping down my legs and pooling around my slippers. The minutes went by as I sat there silently next to the also silent freshman who had heard everything but was pretending not to have. Then he stood up and cheerily announced that we were both leaving so I could get cleaned up and proceeded to walk on ahead of me the entire 3 block journey, leaving me to walk alone by myself.

I know that made me sound really pitiful, but it was actually one of the best days of my life. I remember enjoying that walk alone, repeatedly he would turn around and ask me to hurry up, and still, in defiance, I would keep to my slow pace while I allowed myself to sort out my thoughts and see this person with my eyes that were no longer blinded by love. On the silent walk back, I realised that no one should let themselves be treated like that. I hate to think what would have happened if I wasn’t so rudely woken up to the sad truth of this happiness that I thought I was in. Perhaps I would have married this someone, and had kids with this someone and then realised, too late, that I was a complete and total idiot.

The next morning, I remember someone coming by to apologise for the night before. I remember saying that “it’s alright because I’m not thinking about it anymore”. It was better than saying it’s alright because you are dead to me now.

Later that same morning, I met my husband for the first time.

I was sitting on the floor by Geraldine’s desk, scribbling down notes for a play I was conceptualising. There was this guy standing, about a meter away from me, at Geraldine’s desk talking and laughing with her. I was too busy getting my ideas down on paper to look his way. Later he told me he remembered there was this girl sitting on the floor behind Geraldine’s desk, but he was in a hurry and didn’t look my way either.

Shortly after that, Geraldine pointed at the guy who had just left and asked, “Why not you ask Marcus to help with the photography?”. She said his name like I should know him, because Marc was very involved in the OSL events back then. I didn’t know him then, but I still cherish the irony in what she said, because I should know the man I was going to marry in a couple of years, shouldn’t I?

And over the next couple of weeks, I did.