Was It Me or Was It Her

Relationships have always puzzled me. They have rules and yet they have none. There is trust and yet there is mistrust. I have been in two relationships and I still have not figured out how to make them work. I have seen some of my friends balancing their relationships with their girlfriends and wives so beautifully; some have even had two or more simultaneous relationships and they have never failed. But I somehow have not been able to get a hang of things.

My first relationship was weird. The girl was a sweet girl, about my age. I was about to complete my schooling and had a lot of friends. Almost everyone had a girlfriend or more and they used to sneek out to meet them. I used to be the lookout. It had been going on for years and I decided that it was time I had a girlfriend. I knew this girl and thought that she was cute and proposed to her one evening. She did not say a ‘yes’ right then but every indication was towards it. So we started meeting and secretly calling.

The first few weeks were exciting, then it was okay and then it began to become a burden. I was not ready to miss my football games in the evening with my friends just to meet her and talk to her. And very soon I did not have anything to talk to her about except our parents and some common friends and even this became very boring after some time. So I decided that it was time to quit and conveyed the message to her. But she was not ready for it and she cried and I decided that I should give it another chance.

But it was not to be. I gave the proposal of quitting a number of times but everytime she cried and I decided to give it another chance. Finally I decided to call it quits and walked out of the relationship with her screaming abuses at me. I deserved it but we were not meant to be. That was that.

After that I had a crush on every girl I met. There have been so many girls I had a crush on that I do not even remember 90% of their names or faces. I went to college and then to university and then got a job and I still was having crushes when I met my wife-to-be.

My wife is a beautiful girl. I have not seen anyone prettier than her. She is fairer than the moon and her hair is darker than the darkest night. Her eyes sparkle when she talks and her laughter is like the gurgling of a spring fountain. She has a mischievous smile that always has its effect on me. She is intelligent and very sharp.

I met her at my friend’s party and had a crush on her the moment she smiled at me. But I dismissed the incident as just another crush that was to pass within a day or two. But days rolled into weeks and weeks into months and I knew I was in love with her. After I met her, I have not had a crush on any other girl – except movie stars. I courted her for a few months. All my friends said that it was too short a time to know anyone but I was in love. Madly in love. And out of sheer madness for her, I asked her to marry me. She agreed and we got married. We had an amazing honeymoon and the first few months of the marriage was brilliant. I was living my dream. Everything was happening as I wanted them to be. But things have a mind of their own and everything would not be the same for long.

One day she was supposed to wait for me at the mall. I was to meet her there after my office got over. I completed my work before time and left the office a bit early so that she would not have to wait for long. I got my car and drove off in the direction of the mall which was about 40 minutes drive away from my office. Everything was going well when all of a sudden the engine of my car sputtered and my car came to a grinding halt. Even with my best efforts I could not start the engine.

I am not a mechanic so I gave up trying to figure out what was wrong and soon gave up trying to start the engine. I was stranded in the middle of a kilometre and a half flyover. I decided to call a cab but all the cabs that passed my way was occupied. Then I tried to hitch a ride but that failed too. Finally, I called up the local garage and asked them to haul my car and walked to the nearest bus stand which was a kilometre away and reached the mall an hour and a half late.

True to her word, my wife was waiting for me at the shop she mentioned. She gave me the look that meant that she would eat me alive if only she was cannibal enough. She pouted her lips and led me to a corner and said to me in a suppressed angry voice, “You are late!”
“I know baby, I am late. I am so sorry but my car broke down and I could not get transport.”
“Don’t call me baby! I am not your baby! And don’t give me those lame excuses. You are late.”
“But my car really broke down. Call the garage and see for yourself.”
“Don’t give me that crap! You could have taken a cab if you had wanted.”
“I tried that but it was in the middle of a flyover and none was available.”
“Don’t you tell me all those stories. You could have got transportation only if you had wanted. But you do not care about me. So I guess it is fine!”
She left me there speechless and walked away still pouting.

I never served myself at dinner or at lunch. It was always her. I used to sit at the table while she served the rice and the other dishes. But I did wait till she had served herself too before I started. Seeing me wait for her she always used to cock her left eye and say “Should I also feed you?” But over time she began to be irritated by it. There was another incident I remember.

It was winter. We had gone out for a walk one Sunday and I had lent her my hooded jumper as she was feeling chilly. She always used to pull the hood on when she wore a jumper. This time also she did the same. I did not give that jumper for washing and it was a few days later when she stormed into the bedroom at night holding my jumper. Her face was red and I knew instantly that something was wrong. She held the jumper under my nose and said, “What is this?”
“This is my jumper,” I replied.
This made her more angry. Pointing at a strand of hair she said, “Whose hair is this?”
I was a little taken aback and said, “How should I know whose hair is this?”
“Don’t lie to me! This is the hair of a girl. I know it! Whose hair is this?”
“I don’t know. I have not been with any woman lately.”
“WHAT! You have been with other women earlier!?”
“No! No! I mean I have not been near enough to a woman that her hair would cling to my jumper.”
She refused to believe me and said, “Please tell me, are you seeing anyone else?”
I was shocked. I said, “No, absolutely not! It must be your hair.”
She took the strand of hair in her fingers and minutely examined it for a few minutes, which seemed like eternity to me. I did not know what I was to expect next.
Examination complete, she looked at me and said, “It is my hair, but how come it is on your jumper? You have not cleaned your jumper have you?”
“It has been a few days since I last gave it for washing.”
“You dirty pig!” She pouted her lips, got up and left the room.
I did not know what to make of it. I was not at all prepared for the double assault.

It was not that she suspected any infidelity. It was just her way of showing her possessiveness. She did not mind my ogling at young girls or flirting with a few in front of her. She even encouraged and teased me. She also had her crushes, especially fair, clean shaven men with glasses were her favourites. Needless to say, I hated them. I guess this was a result of us not getting into fights. I could not quarrel or fight with her. I had a tough time counteracting her verbal salvos, but the most devastating effect was her eyes which sparkled whenever she quarrelled – and that mesmerises me. I could not fight after that so I used to give up very easily. But I was a pain to her too. I used to agree to something that I did not like just to avoid a fight, and when the time came, I did what I felt right. This infuriated her. People always saw her screaming at me or fighting with me but never saw the underhands I played her. Obviously they called her a bitch.

I still remember that day. I had just come out of the shower and was getting ready to go to a friend’s place. She borrowed my cell phone to message a friend of her’s. I was combing my hair when she said, “What is this?”
I turned around and she held out my phone. I took it from her and read a message I had sent to my secretary in which I had called her ‘sweetheart’. My secretary was a young woman, not that attractive but efficient. My wife knew that I called almost everyone a sweetheart but I expected an explosion, as that was her nature.
I fumbled a bit for words and did my explaining, bracing myself for the onslaught.
But the onslaught never came.
She said, “Oh!” Took back the phone, sent her sms and walked out of the room.
Then and there I knew something was wrong. I pestered her to tell me what was wrong but she always said that everything was fine.
But from that day she started becoming cold towards me and became irritable.

The final nail in the coffin was my stroke. We had gone out for dinner with a mutual friend of ours. She is a very close friend of my wife’s and the sister of my friend. At the table the discussion turned to having babies. This friend said that a woman needs to exercise regularly to stay fit and that my wife should also exercise (my wife is averse to exercising, yet she has a good figure). I agreed on this point and made the most humiliating comment of all. I said that if my wife does not exercise she will not have a proper delivery and we will not have a healthy child. I realised my mistake only when I looked at her face. She was looking out of the window with her face red in anger and embarrassment. If I have to ever change anything in my past, it would be to rectify this event. It does not matter how sorry I am for what I did, the fact remains that I did it and I cannot undo it.

I tried many ways to make her happy but all of them backfired. She slowly lost interest in me and began to be irritated by everything I did. I had grand plans for us but these became grand failures both due to my mistiming and due to circumstances. In the end she said that she needed space. But the space she needed could only be achieved in a new house and she left the house and filed for divorce.

I realized that I was losing her. So I begged her to stay but she could not stand me any longer. My friends and her friends told me that it was unmanly for me to beg her to come back, but she was MY wife, not theirs. I love her and could not let her go so easily. So I tried, but failed. I soon realised that she did not want me in her life in any way, so I decided to push her away. I called her up and sent her messages to irritate her and she called me names. But after everything, I succeeded in making her hate me. She said that she never loved me but I know that she did and she knows that she did.

We got divorced a few weeks back and now I am in a contemplative mood. The divorce was mutual as we both did not want a court case. The property was divided and things did not go out of hand till later. I still love my wife, still remember her smile and laugh. I remember the promise I made to her that I shall never make her cry and protect her and how miserably I have failed at that. Most people around me blame her for the fiasco but they do not know the whole story.I had become too possessive and stifled her. I was obsessed with her. I trusted a few friends and told them the story but they were too eager to fabricate it and spread it to portray her in a bad light. I have maintained my distance from them.

But I still wonder, after knowing everything, what exactly went wrong? Was I not suited for her or was she not suited for me or was the timing wrong? She once told me that I know how to love but had no clue about how to be loved. I love her, I love her madly. I really do. Thank goodness we did not have children; the separation would have been much more painful. She loves children.