the bottomsup blog | parenting, living, and crafting in Singapore

This is in response to E’s post on Love: The strange feeling that one gets, not her dog. And she is the only person who reads my blog, ‘cuz my ramblings are secret like that!

I realise that I’ve never posted on how I met the Hubs. Bear with me now:

We knew of each other’s existence MANY years ago. When my cocker (Lady) was a young dog, not the grandma that she is now at 12 years, I would bring her, Niu Niu, and Lucky (RIP) for grooming at Animal Discovery (defunct). And I would hand them off to the “short dude in the store” so that he could prep them for the groomer. That was about all the interaction that I had with him… I didn’t even know his name!

Fast forward to 2010. I brought the dogs for a weekly swim at Sentosa. And there I would occasionally meet future-Hubs and his friend. They too would have their dogs around, and with the other dog-people mixing and mingling, it was always a good time to hang out and chat about everything. And this for the record: I did dig his body (he would say vice versa too)—wahaha! I found out where his modus operandi was. Lo and behold, it was in the same neighbourhood that I would be moving into.

Update on that period’s relationship status: I was with someone for seven years. It was going nowhere. But like most people, I didn’t have the heart to call it off. Or rather, I didn’t have a big push factor to make that move. I moved into a new place with plenty of space (and parking!) but he didn’t want to stay over. At all. So I was pretty lonely. Not that it was an excuse ya!

I mentioned to future-Hubs, hey why don’t we go for dinner one day? Since we are in the same neighbourhood and all. Confession: I was pretty excited getting ready for said-dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy. We had dinner where we would hold our future wedding :P Post dinner, I invited him to come in and chat more. No pretenses! We were really just having a good time talkingtalkingtalking! We discussed love and our relationships: He was married then (!!!) and I was in THAT situation. It really was an in-depth conversation that was so comfortable and natural, it scared me. And him. We ended our night at 3AM (this is me who hits the pillow before midnight).

Next night, it was a repeat… you get the picture. We would talk about so many things and we would click on so many levels. We’d finish each other’s sentences. Very clichéd I know! We kind of knew where it was headed and both of us had to settle our own personal issues. He wasn’t in a fulfilling marriage, got hitched too young he said. I would not go down that path to be the third party—basically he had his sh*t to sort out. I had mine. That was probably the hardest thing I had to go through: I was jealous/envious that someone else had him first, even though that meant he was more mature and wiser due to it.

I never love anyone more than he loves me—that was my motto. It was easier to call it off if there was a need to. And I have called it off on ALL my past relationships. I’m the break-upper. This time it was different. Scared the sh*t out of me.

Trying as it was, I planned to surprise him on his trip to Bangkok with his friend, who gamely played the go-between till I jumped him at the hotel’s restaurant. Those were three great days—we were free from our issues and yes there was horizontal action. We were very honest about what we expected from each other going forward and at some points I did feel like giving up. Love is so damn bloody hard! But he’s great at talking calmly and getting me to express my thoughts and feelings—even if I don’t even know what they are, ‘cuz this is totally uncharted territory for me!

Back to reality, I called it quits with my ex. And he went with the divorce proceedings. There were a couple of naysayers. From “are you sure he/she is worth it?” to “she/he cheated to be with you, how can you be certain that it won’t happen again?” Well, we can’t be sure can we? That’s what you call taking a chance.

At first meeting, people generally get the impression that Hubs is a ruffian-type. He smokes too much, talks too loud, drives like a maniac, swears like a sailor, lives in t-shirts and identical looking bermudas. He tells it like it is and it’s usually a sign that he cares about you. Once you scratch the surface, he is possibly the nicest man you will come across (most wives might say that about their husbands). He’s too giving and generous to a fault, even his mum says so. He takes the time to be with me and will say “I Love You.” He’s not shy to share the good things I do and give me credit for it. He really is my friend (I don’t have many, by the way) and I cannot believe I’ve fallen for him some days. I would be one of those people you roll your eyes to when I say that all I would need is him—I shock myself too.

There goes the stereotype for being a strong independent woman. Would I be less of a person if I lost him? Possibly. Likely. Yes. But I do like being on the other side of being loved. Instead of feeling like I’m walking on eggshells, this is solid earth. It’s nurturing, warm, and grows with you. Yes it will have weeds, and that takes work to sort out from time to time. But it beats falling then figuring out how to land. ;)

I know what E is saying when she says she’s in a good happy place.

I am too. We’ve landed together.

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