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My story is not one of the normal “boy meets girl in a bar, they fall in love, and live happily every after” fairy tales. But then, nothing I ever do is normal despite my best attempts otherwise. I’ve arrived at marital bliss, but not without some twists and turns—and lessons learned—on the precarious road of romance. My love story began to unfold about 15 years ago. I was 24 years old, a student finishing her Masters in Economics from Vrije University Amsterdam, one of the top schools in the Netherlands. I grew up in nearby village of Weesp in a “normal” household of four children and dedicated parents who worked as teachers. To earn a little extra money while pursing my degree, I took a job in the university’s public relations office. I enjoyed life: studying not too hard and having a great time with my sorority. Our favorite pastime: loitering around the rowing club where all the gorgeous-looking, athletic hunks hung out. Sigh. I never dated one of those guys. I’m a classic, petit, blue-eyed, brunette Dutch woman, but back then I was super shy and, because I had gained a few pounds, thought I looked HUGE and ugly. That, in retrospect, was not true at all. Two Loves I was not totally unsuccessful with men. I fell secretly in love with Michael, president of the rowing club, who seemed unreachable for me. He worked in the PR office, too, so we had the chance to get to know each other quite well. When his younger sister died tragically of cancer, we had long, philosophical conversations. Still, with some butterfly feelings lurking inside me, I didn’t approach him about dating. And he never asked for a date either. Years later I found out he didn’t have the guts to ask ME out. Ironic, isn’t it? During this period, along came Henry who did invite me for a date and quickly captivated me by being always cheerful and full of life. I fell head over heels for him and we had a lot of fun together. Sadly, he broke up with me after six months when he fell in love with another women, an enormous blow to my ego. It was small consolation when it later appeared that Henry could not commit himself to any woman. After six more relationships he finally got married, then divorced after two years (and a baby!) when he had fallen in love with yet another woman. Pretty pathetic, I thought. A Dinner Alone with the Boss’s Husband The lady managing the PR office—let’s call her Liz—was not only my boss, but she became a good friend. We had fun together and felt comfortable discussing serious topics, such as religion and politics. She was married and, during the second year I worked for her, she suggested I have dinner at her home so I could meet her husband. But then, shortly after her invitation, she began to act strangely. She became quiet, taking off days here and there. I asked her if she was okay, and she said there were some issues at home. One morning she came into the office and said that she was sorry, but the dinner engagement at her home would have to be postponed as she and her husband were having serious problems. I was shocked. She had always sounded like the happiest married person in the world, always talking so highly of her husband and sharing funny stories with me. I tried to be supportive, telling her that I would work extra if that would help her sort out things. I had never met her husband, but the following week he suddenly showed up in our office, picking up Liz on his way home. I liked him instantly. He was funny and enchanting. But there were two things that worked against him: his age (he was at least 17 years older than me) and his moustache. In my sorority we always joked it didn’t matter how ugly a man looked, as long as he didn’t have a moustache. That was a definite no-no. We had sworn we would never date anyone with a moustache and that we would voluntarily resign from our sorority and never return if we would ever make that mistake. The following week Liz seemed much more perky—happier, in fact, than I had seen her in months. I presumed she and her husband had worked things out. Then she asked me, out of the blue: “How would you like, instead of having dinner at our place, to have dinner with my husband alone?” Huh?, I thought. What IS this? I was so flabbergasted that I agreed and before I knew it, Hans, Liz’s husband, called me at home and suggested we have dinner at a small Italian restaurant he knew. I told my girlfriends about the dinner date with my boss’s husband and we all had a good laugh, especially when I told them about the moustache. A few days later Hans picked me up from my apartment and took me to the Italian restaurant, which was very cozy. We had just been given our menus when I saw Hans staring at the entrance with his mouth dropped open. Who walked in? Liz, with another woman, Jill, both looking very much in love. They were holding hands and Liz was laughing at something funny that her friend just told her. My mouth dropped open as well. Hans excused himself, stood up, and had a few words with Liz. We then all awkwardly shook hands and I felt this old familiar feeling: Why is nothing ever going to be NORMAL for me? Liz and her friend decided to choose a different restaurant and when Hans and I sat down again I looked at him, completely puzzled. Hans smiled a bit sheepishly and explained that yes, Liz had fallen in love with someone else, a woman, and that she wanted him to “have some fun as well.” That was why she suggested Hans call me for dinner. To cut a long story short: after frantically rejecting Hans—how could I ever tell my sorority sisters that I was dating a man with a moustache, 17 years my senior, whose wife, my boss, had just come out of the closet and had set me up with her husband?—I fell for him like a rock. His charm worked on my girlfriends as well. They grew to like him very much, although they still tease me ad nauseam about the moustache.
A Switcheroo of Partners
Hans and Liz divorced 6 months after that crazy restaurant scene. Three years later, Hans and I were married. Liz is now happily married to Jill. The Netherlands is the first country in the world that allows same-sex couples to be legally married. My courtship with Hans went smoothly and we just grew closer and closer together. He became my second half without whom I could not exist or live. We literally were on the same wave length. I could start a conversation and he would say: “What made you bring that up just now. I was just thinking of exactly that!” The age difference? Not a problem a single day. Early in our dating, he tried hard to look “younger,” which I only found very funny, cute, but totally silly. He exercised more, lost weight, and even joined me now and then when I went out for a run. He’s basically anti-sport, and leans to music and science. I accepted him for who he is. He didn’t have to try and be someone else for me. He tells me that’s one reason he loves me so much: he really feels he can be himself. What I respect in Hans is his high ethical standards, his hard-working, positive attitude and the fact he is always ready to help other people out. He says he feels the same about me. A Proposal, a Wedding, and Normality (Almost) The way he proposed was quite romantic, nothing big, but very sweet. We had been talking about marriage for awhile, but neither he nor I were in a hurry. For him the divorce had still been painful. He had been married to Liz for 18 years and he was determined to never have this experience again. So a second marriage would have to be successful for him. One of the first things he bought when we were first dating was a motorcycle. As a young man, he had always had one, but Liz didn’t like it much, so he sold it. I encouraged him to buy one, which he did. We used to make these long motorcycle rides, which we still do and both love. So, one evening after dinner—it was early fall—he suggested a ride along the small, beautiful lakes in the countryside outside Amsterdam. We cruised happily enjoying the little sail boats and the crisp air. He suddenly stopped at a quiet place on a lake, got off the bike, and took my hand. We walked to the water and just stood there enjoying the view. Then he put his arm around me and said: “I love you so much, much more than I have ever loved anyone in my life. You complete me. Without you I am less than half. I wish we could always be together … will you please marry me?” I didn’t need a lot of thinking time as I felt exactly the same way: without him I was not complete! So I shouted a clear and resounding “Yes, I will!” Three months later, on December 21, 1995, we got married. It was a beautiful, cold, and sunny day and as we were sitting in this little old church, I looked outside and saw snowflakes falling. When we left the church, husband and wife, we stepped into a white, fairytale-like world. He whispered in my ear: “You know, it has cost me a lot of money to persuade the weathergods, but I wanted to make this special and I ordered snow just for you.” After 9 years of marriage, I’m still in love with Hans. He is funny, loving, and caring. We do fight, of course, like all couples, but it’s usually about small things. For one thing, he always wants to be right and seldom admits that he was “wrong.” I find that extremely annoying. For him to say “I’m sorry” is a big thing. His way of apologizing when he’s wrong (and I’m often just as “wrong”) is massaging my shoulders or feet, which I absolutely adore. We lived in the Netherlands for a few years after our marriage, and then relocated to the U.S. I work for a major international pharmaceutical firm and was promoted to a senior manager position in the company’s Manhattan office. Hans has his own pharmaceutical consulting firm, but only takes projects if he finds them “interesting.” We live in the quiet and beautiful countryside of New Jersey. I commute daily into the hustle and bustle of the Big City. I think I have finally achieved some degree of normality in my life: I am married and live the American dream: nice house, big yard, cats and a dog. The one thing that still doesn’t fit in the “normal” scheme is that Hans and I swapped the traditional pattern of wife staying home and husband going out to work. Hans prefers to work in his yard (he is a biologist by education and loves to grow flowers and vegetables), and to take care of the house and animals. He loves his freedom. So it’s him doing the laundry and me bringing home most of the bacon, but we both love it that way!
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