And that is all it took. For him to concur that he felt like he was in the same boat: same insecurities, same apprehensions, same genuine uncertainty. When I looked into his eyes and saw the sincerity, I let the air out of the balloon. Why get pent up with a thousand emotions about the "What Ifs?" We had to live in the moment and just let things be as they may.
Ok, so I seem to have things backwards.
First you meet, fall in love and then get married. Right? Sounds pretty normal and cliche.
Of course, leave it to me to find meaning in things against the status quo.
We did not have a wedding song. We did not slow dance to our pick of music that would spring us into married life. If there was a song, it would be "What's Love Got to do with it" by Tina Turner. Because quite plainly, neither of us were in love with each other.
I do believe there needs to be some chemistry, a strong physical attraction. This is essential otherwise I would be banking solely on personality--of which I had no taste of. The mutual attraction was there from Day 1 but I still believe today we were fated to be together. There was an unexplained energy force (no, not lust) whereby the circumstances aligned us together. You have read all about that.
Now begins the Love Story. Aww shucks...is it about to get all cheesy now?
My honeymoon was like watching the Discovery Channel for me. A whole new world.
And then, only then, did I fall in love.
Squeeze me?
Who the hell falls in love after they get married? People in arranged marriages.
And that is what I liken the first beginnings of our relationship together. As we discovered the country of Spain, we also discovered each other.
Like any relationship, we had to earn each other's trust. And it was slow to begin with because we knew very little about the other.
As we explored new terrain of the country, its people, the food and what each city had to offer, we slowly learned about each other in the same way. And we wanted to learn more and more as the days passed.
We actually dated. Finally, as husband and wife. And we made up the rules along the way. And (gasp), it was out in the open! This was a novelty...it was foreign for us to show public affection, feeling that someone was going to turn the corner and report us. But it was liberating in that we appreciated the freedom far more than the average couple who were used to dating and being very open about it.
By Day 4, he was already ordering food for me, knowing exactly what I liked. Many of the Spaniards stopped us on the street after noticing the henna on my hands and feet. In broken English, they asked if we were just married although one elderly woman commented that she could see that we had been together for so many years and there was so much love between us.
I laughed out loud and withheld the truth in order not to disappoint her. But it was a very surprising assessment of us as a couple.
And it was no act. Within a week, I was very comfortable with him and he with I. I could be myself around him, express my opinion and joke freely. And as we got to know more about our likes, dislikes, tastes, ideologies, viewpoints and preferences, it was as if we had known each other for most of our lives. Strange...but completely true.
Although there was no courtship involved, no wooing, no chasing, no impressions to be made, I opened my heart, my eyes and my soul to fall in love--in two weeks...
Can Pakistanis fall in love?
Yes: It can be arranged...
-Unknown Author
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Romantic Elliptical, Part 68: Careful what you wish for
Many of you have read these posts and wondered the same thing:
"What on Earth was she thinking?"
I know, and I accept your skepticism, outrage, sympathy, bewilderment and curiosity.
Its not the norm. Especially in North America. But at the time I married, over twenty years ago, full knowing how my peers were meeting, socializing, dating, courting, fooling around, or whatever you want to call it, I was entrenched in another realm of courtship, or lack thereof.
Ask me today. Would I do it all over again? I am not sure. Not all arranged marriages have worked out for everyone. Each has a story of its own.
The way I see it...there is no formula that leads to marriage. At the end, its a risk.
Whether you know the person for one minute or ten years before marrying them, things change when you sign that dotted line. People change over the years. Situations change, circumstances present challenges. But I do know there is a hell of alot of compromise and sacrifice by both parties in order to make the relationship work.
Only you define that line in the sand.
Monday, the day after my reception, we went to his home, now my home, to meet both sides of the family. It is customary for the girl's side to come and visit to see how the bride is doing and offer 'moral support'. We spent the evening eating dinner and opening up all the wedding gifts. This became a laborious task as you will remember that there were over 400 guests to my wedding (70% of whom I did not know).
I had to pack that night since we were flying off to Spain the next day. Initially, for me it was a relief to be leaving the family behind and venturing off somewhere where no one could bother us. We were told what to do, what to wear, how to act and what not to say for the next 24 hours and it became quite stifling.
Careful what you wish for.
At the airport, both our families came to bid us goodbye. We hugged everyone, with suitcases in tow, and made our way to the security gate. I looked back and saw my family standing there waving me goodbye. I suddenly felt odd.
While going through security, my mind became occupied with the same thought. I was walking away from those that have loved me all my life, unconditionally. The ones who I could confide in, and seek solace and support. And here I was, leaving them behind to venture forward into uncertainty.
Who was he....really? This man who now was my husband? He stood next to me as we watched our items go through the screening machine and I looked at his profile.
I was alone with him. About to travel across the Atlantic to a foreign country...with a 'foreign' man. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. Suddenly, I missed the commotion back at his house with my extended family and his family teasing, pestering and forcing us to eat this or that. I missed being in a comfort zone of people around us. I missed being single.
Yes, I said it. Single. And here I was, about to fly off with this man I called my husband. I stared at him as we sat at the gate waiting to board our flight. I was quiet--he mistook it for tiredness and claimed he was tired too. Was he really tired or in the same predicament as me? Who was this girl he called his wife?
We stared at each other for a good ten minutes without talking. Any onlooker would not have known we just got married. I sat across from him and pretended to read my fashion magazine. I looked at the models and wondered if any of them were married. They looked so normal and happy. I felt abnormal and perturbed. How did married people act?
We boarded the flight and sat next to each other on the plane. There was a buzz around us. People seemed excited. A couple next across the aisle from us were laughing about something. I furrowed my brow and concentrated too hard on how to buckle my belt. Stop analyzing the situation, I told myself. The left side of my brain was too busy trying to figure out my situation and the next step while my right brain argued back on what the hell I was doing. While this battle continued for five minutes before takeoff, I was brought back to the idea of living in the moment.
He reached over and grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear. It was as if he read my mind.
"We have our whole life to figure this out. For now, you're with me, ok?"
I looked into his eyes, nodded and finally....exhaled.
"What on Earth was she thinking?"
I know, and I accept your skepticism, outrage, sympathy, bewilderment and curiosity.
Its not the norm. Especially in North America. But at the time I married, over twenty years ago, full knowing how my peers were meeting, socializing, dating, courting, fooling around, or whatever you want to call it, I was entrenched in another realm of courtship, or lack thereof.
Ask me today. Would I do it all over again? I am not sure. Not all arranged marriages have worked out for everyone. Each has a story of its own.
The way I see it...there is no formula that leads to marriage. At the end, its a risk.
Whether you know the person for one minute or ten years before marrying them, things change when you sign that dotted line. People change over the years. Situations change, circumstances present challenges. But I do know there is a hell of alot of compromise and sacrifice by both parties in order to make the relationship work.
Only you define that line in the sand.
Monday, the day after my reception, we went to his home, now my home, to meet both sides of the family. It is customary for the girl's side to come and visit to see how the bride is doing and offer 'moral support'. We spent the evening eating dinner and opening up all the wedding gifts. This became a laborious task as you will remember that there were over 400 guests to my wedding (70% of whom I did not know).
I had to pack that night since we were flying off to Spain the next day. Initially, for me it was a relief to be leaving the family behind and venturing off somewhere where no one could bother us. We were told what to do, what to wear, how to act and what not to say for the next 24 hours and it became quite stifling.
Careful what you wish for.
At the airport, both our families came to bid us goodbye. We hugged everyone, with suitcases in tow, and made our way to the security gate. I looked back and saw my family standing there waving me goodbye. I suddenly felt odd.
While going through security, my mind became occupied with the same thought. I was walking away from those that have loved me all my life, unconditionally. The ones who I could confide in, and seek solace and support. And here I was, leaving them behind to venture forward into uncertainty.
Who was he....really? This man who now was my husband? He stood next to me as we watched our items go through the screening machine and I looked at his profile.
I was alone with him. About to travel across the Atlantic to a foreign country...with a 'foreign' man. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. Suddenly, I missed the commotion back at his house with my extended family and his family teasing, pestering and forcing us to eat this or that. I missed being in a comfort zone of people around us. I missed being single.
Yes, I said it. Single. And here I was, about to fly off with this man I called my husband. I stared at him as we sat at the gate waiting to board our flight. I was quiet--he mistook it for tiredness and claimed he was tired too. Was he really tired or in the same predicament as me? Who was this girl he called his wife?
We stared at each other for a good ten minutes without talking. Any onlooker would not have known we just got married. I sat across from him and pretended to read my fashion magazine. I looked at the models and wondered if any of them were married. They looked so normal and happy. I felt abnormal and perturbed. How did married people act?
We boarded the flight and sat next to each other on the plane. There was a buzz around us. People seemed excited. A couple next across the aisle from us were laughing about something. I furrowed my brow and concentrated too hard on how to buckle my belt. Stop analyzing the situation, I told myself. The left side of my brain was too busy trying to figure out my situation and the next step while my right brain argued back on what the hell I was doing. While this battle continued for five minutes before takeoff, I was brought back to the idea of living in the moment.
He reached over and grabbed my hand and whispered in my ear. It was as if he read my mind.
"We have our whole life to figure this out. For now, you're with me, ok?"
I looked into his eyes, nodded and finally....exhaled.
Monday, August 1, 2011
The Romantic Elliptical, Part 67: The Wedding Night
Squeeze me?
This is probably my shortest post. Enjoy ;)
Remember that happiness is a way of travel, not a destination.
Roy Goodman
This is probably my shortest post. Enjoy ;)
Remember that happiness is a way of travel, not a destination.
Roy Goodman
The Romantic Elliptical, Part 66: The Leap of Faith
We sat together in the limo but this was not us alone. Six more people would accompany us to the hotel. My inlaws, my brother-in-law, and three teens of their close family friends. It was a family affair, my wedding night. And I wondered if I would ever be alone with him.
I stopped crying halfway through the ride to downtown. My new husband passed me a tissue and held my hand. The oldest of the three teens, herself only 17, smiled shyly and looked embaressed. It was quiet and only a few spoke in whispers until my mother-in-law saw the SkyDome and asked whether this was our hotel. Everyone, including me, broke out in laughter and this somewhat eased the tension in the limo.
When we arrived, their family friends, who had followed the limo downtown, escorted us into the hotel. Our wedding suite was their gift to us. I was followed by at least ten people and the throngs of people in the lobby stopped and stared. It was not everyday a Pakistani bride, dressed to the nines with jewellery and a sequined dress enters a hotel with her own procession.
I looked up at times to find old people smiling at me and checking out my attire. As we walked into the elevator, I saw our reflection in the glass doors. We looked so young--me only at the ripe old age of 20 and him at 26. Two kids being guided up the hotel and shown to their room as if we were at home with our parents. That is how I felt--passed on from one set of parents to another.
The room was beautiful--a separate bedroom, a living suite, balcony and solarium. I was 'placed' on the sofa and my mother-in-law stood in front of me.
"Remove your jewellery and put it all in the safe," she said. I nodded obediently as I learned quickly that I could not speak. And as my father-in-law sat down to make himself comfortable, their family friend pulled him up and commanded everyone to leave. They all hugged me and were ushered to the door by my husband. I sat alone on the sofa and waited, not knowing quite sure what to do next. I could feel the weight of my heavily embroidered veil and jewellery weighing down my neck and shoulders. I sat back and looked out through the window at the lake and the rest of the skyline. It was a beautiful summer night, with clear skies and the lights of boats on the water.
I wanted to be on one of those boats, moving away toward the vast, dark unknown of the lake.
For now, I settled for the unknown of that night as my husband rounded the corner towards me after seeing his family off. We were finally alone. The two of us. No family member sitting in the same room, breathing heavily into a phone or watching us from the corner of their eyes.
Alone.
For a second, I would have rather been on stage in front of millions of people than experience the fear of being alone with a stranger in a room.
Alone.
It was time to take that leap of faith...I guess...
I stopped crying halfway through the ride to downtown. My new husband passed me a tissue and held my hand. The oldest of the three teens, herself only 17, smiled shyly and looked embaressed. It was quiet and only a few spoke in whispers until my mother-in-law saw the SkyDome and asked whether this was our hotel. Everyone, including me, broke out in laughter and this somewhat eased the tension in the limo.
When we arrived, their family friends, who had followed the limo downtown, escorted us into the hotel. Our wedding suite was their gift to us. I was followed by at least ten people and the throngs of people in the lobby stopped and stared. It was not everyday a Pakistani bride, dressed to the nines with jewellery and a sequined dress enters a hotel with her own procession.
I looked up at times to find old people smiling at me and checking out my attire. As we walked into the elevator, I saw our reflection in the glass doors. We looked so young--me only at the ripe old age of 20 and him at 26. Two kids being guided up the hotel and shown to their room as if we were at home with our parents. That is how I felt--passed on from one set of parents to another.
The room was beautiful--a separate bedroom, a living suite, balcony and solarium. I was 'placed' on the sofa and my mother-in-law stood in front of me.
"Remove your jewellery and put it all in the safe," she said. I nodded obediently as I learned quickly that I could not speak. And as my father-in-law sat down to make himself comfortable, their family friend pulled him up and commanded everyone to leave. They all hugged me and were ushered to the door by my husband. I sat alone on the sofa and waited, not knowing quite sure what to do next. I could feel the weight of my heavily embroidered veil and jewellery weighing down my neck and shoulders. I sat back and looked out through the window at the lake and the rest of the skyline. It was a beautiful summer night, with clear skies and the lights of boats on the water.
I wanted to be on one of those boats, moving away toward the vast, dark unknown of the lake.
For now, I settled for the unknown of that night as my husband rounded the corner towards me after seeing his family off. We were finally alone. The two of us. No family member sitting in the same room, breathing heavily into a phone or watching us from the corner of their eyes.
Alone.
For a second, I would have rather been on stage in front of millions of people than experience the fear of being alone with a stranger in a room.
Alone.
It was time to take that leap of faith...I guess...
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