When She Knew: I Thought About Him Being Next to Me
I was on the phone with a dear friend in Germany, someone I had known for years and who had seen me through a fair share of dates and relationships. Now, finding myself a world away for work in East Africa, I began telling her more about the new, and entirely Ethiopian, guy I was dating. This was all different—in more ways than one.
“I think I want to marry him."
“How do you know?” she asked.
“I just do.”
The idea had crossed my mind before I went blabbing it out to my friend, but the way I answered her surprised me. He was handsome, considerate, creative, knew what he wanted, and we held similar beliefs. But honestly, he wouldn’t have been the first guy I knew who had fit that description. He understood parts of my past I couldn’t easily explain. Holes I’d found in other relationships weren’t there with him. And somehow, there was a draw to him.
A couple of hours after the phone call ended, I was stunned by the recognition of exactly what I’d said to her. There was my mother’s voice in my head: “You just know!” It was the response given to me throughout my life every time I asked about how she knew she was going to marry my dad, and how I was supposed to know when I’d found the right man. Some of history’s most unhelpful relationship advice. Until it happened.
As someone who grew up with three brothers, all of us very close in age, I had spent my whole life hanging out around guys. Even at thirty, this was a constant in my life. I was comfortable being friends with the guys. Perhaps I spent more time hanging out with guys than I needed to, but there was never anyone I wanted to spend this much time with.
Even with some of the other guys I had dated, while I might be infatuated in thinking about them after a date, I didn’t necessarily need to run out to see them again. It seemed there was always one of us who wanted to spend more time together than the other, but this time, it was mutual.
We’d started off as work friends. We talked about all kinds of things, and I enjoyed his company. I wasn’t sure if it would translate into the outside world, so when we finally agreed to meet up outside of work one day, I figured I could bow out after an hour if things were awkward or uninteresting. A few hours in, we decided it was time to call it a date and give a relationship a go.
From that day on, I wanted to spend all of my time with him. We spent every weekend together. We talked constantly during the week, and in the evenings we talked on the phone until long after we both should’ve been in bed. After a date, I waited for him to tell me when he was home so we could keep talking. When we weren’t together, I wanted to be with him, and when I was with him, I didn’t want to leave. Our time together was often filled with serious discussion, yet we always seemed to be laughing and having fun. I needed to hear his thoughts, but I also itched to hold his hand. I couldn’t get enough of him.
In a few months, I was meant to be returning to Europe, where I had lived previously, for work. When I thought about being there, I only thought about him being next to me, holding my hand. I wasn’t worried about how this African man would handle it, how we would be perceived, or what would happen. I wanted to take him, to show him, and to experience everything fresh—with him. It extended past Europe and became about having him with me in every part of my life, everywhere and anywhere in my life. I knew.
When his proposal came after a couple of months, though I sort of felt like I might pass out, there was no hesitation in my “yes.” After the initial shock of his proposal had worn off, and we were basking in it together, I asked, “Does this mean I get to hang out with you for the rest of our lives?” I couldn’t have been giddier. Even now, with a few years of marriage behind us, I would still rather hang out with him than anyone else.
Editor’s note: When She Knew is a way for women to share stories of the simple (or not-so-simple) ways they knew they had met the man they wanted to marry. If you’d like to share your story, review our Readers Write guidelines here.
