What does love feel like? I used to think that I knew that emotion very well. Every time I was attached to a boy, I think I loved him. But after we broke up, and the tears of sorrow (or joy, as the case may be) stopped coming, I would ask myself, Did I love him? Is it possible to love someone even if you’d known them for a day? Is it possible to love someone when you barely see them? Now that I am older (and hopefully wiser), I can look back and count the times I loved someone. And the number of times I’ve loved (and fallen in love) does not tally with the number of boys I had been with.
When I met my husband, I believed that I loved him from the moment I met him. It was just like the books. A thunder-bolt struck into my heart and there, his name was forever etched. Never mind that the first time I met him, a friend was trying to set him up with another girl we knew too. Never mind also that he was disinterested in me, until after the football game showing in the bar came to an end. Never mind that I saw him secretly and furtively adjudsting his wedgie. Never mind that I was loud, cheerful and acted like a buddy. Deep inside, the blood in my veins throbbed and I feared that they would burst through my skin in a crimson fountain.
Those days: they were heady, love-filled and wonderful days. I threw all caution to the wind, broke every rule in the book on what not to do when you were interested in a guy, cultivated the unhealthy habit of drinking beer and/or alcohol everyday just so we’d have more fun in our drunken, inebriated state. In the end, I fell in love with him because he liked me as I was. Because he became a wonderful friend. And I was faced with this dilemma: could I live forever knowing that I loved him secretly but acted casual and buddy-like, encouraging him to pursue a certain girl, or would the propensity of my boiling emotions be too much for me to handle?
I confessed. That I could not bear loving him if he did not love me back. That I could not bear being buddies with him, and if I had to ruin our friendship because of my confession, I did it because I needed my sanity. I needed to find my balance in life again. He, he who had thrown my feelings into turmoil, messed with my inner sanctum. Did he lead me to think he could love me? I was quite certain he did.
The trouble with men is that they do not have the sensitivity of a woman’s nature. That it is ok to treat a girl like a bloke (which is really ok). But they also think that if they treat a girl like a bloke, there is no way in hell she’d fall in love with him. Because, face it, she’s a bloke, one of the guys. And that was me. One of the guys.
I think he broke my heart. But he mended it again when he said that he wanted to give us a shot. A real relationship. Not the silly clowning around we did everyday in the bar. Not like the nights we spent at each other’s houses, curled up together in a bed in drunken stupor, just like friends might. And so we began our life together, which wasn’t without the usual spats, off-again on-again relationship status, cruel jibs and tormenting fights. It was simpler when we were just friends. As friends, we don’t expect very much of each other, except to be a friend. As a couple, we expected the sun, moon and stars. Why was it different simply because we had switched our relationship status? It’s something I can’t figure out to this very day.
We got married after 4 years of togetherness. On our wedding day, I fell in love with him all over again when I saw his eyes well up with tears as my father walked me down the aisle. When he whispered to me, “You are so beautiful“. And I knew that he was the one.
After 3 years of married life and a baby, our love has mellowed. Our lives are mundane, routine and somewhat boring. Some time ago, I asked myself, what has happened to us? Where is the love that once was? When we fought recently, I was prepared to pack my bags and leave with the baby, to walk out of his life forever. I told myself then, it’s ok, I can live without him so long as I have the baby. But I owed him a goodbye. So I stayed and waited for him to return, so that I could say goodbye to him, to the life we had together. But I stayed on. Shameful for having thought that I could just leave him and the memories we’d had. Shameful for having thought that he loved our baby any less and that I had the right to take her away from him.
Our love is no longer the same. I’d like to think it has evolved into a deeper, higher state. Love now is simply being a family, and loving each other silently. Love is our routine, mundane boring lives now. Love is our weekend brunches together with our baby. Love is sleeping in the same room at night even though either one of us is kept awake by the other’s raucous snoring. Love is the one or two text messages we send to each other daily. Love is our baby. Love is us staying together through the good times and bad (and we’ve had a lot of bad times).
Love after 3 years of marriage: I’m sure that it can only get better.
