A Disastrous Date

I’m here because I can’t go on with this on my conscience.

I’ll start this confession by saying that I’ve been married for 20 years, so it feels as though my first date was in another lifetime. My husband’s name is Antonio and I’ve known him since I was 12, from school. He was the one I had my first kiss with, the one who gave me my first bouquet of flowers, the one I went on my first date with, and eventually, he was the one I lost my virginity to as well.

I fell pregnant and we decided to get married straight away. Unfortunately, I had a miscarriage a month after the wedding. We were heartbroken, feeling alone in the world as if no one understood what we were going through. We were inseparable, bound by our pain and all that might have been.

In the years that followed, we had more miscarriages. Each time, a part of Antonio died too. Until one night when we started arguing over something so trivial I can’t even remember what it was, but it ended with a slap across my face. This was also the first of many. Over these 20 years, I broke 52 bones, was hospitalised 30 times and cried for about 15 years whilst nobody knew what was happening.

Antonio didn’t want anyone else to know what he was doing. Whenever I found the courage to leave him, he would say:

     “My angel… you know I love you so much. You’re everything to me. I’m nothing without you.”

Which would quickly turn into:

“If you leave, I’ll kill myself, because if you really loved me, you wouldn’t leave me.”

I grew up in an environment that taught me to be against divorce.

Antonio was so romantic and affectionate. Not to mention his wealth and good looks. Eyes more vibrant than the green of the Amazon and a smile that could melt ice. Our first date was a dream, like a scene from a modern fairy tale. He had asked my parents directly for permission to take me on a date.

To mark our 20th anniversary, I decided to be super romantic too and try to win my husband back. What could be more romantic than a re-enactment of our first date? By some miracle, Antonio agreed to the plan.

I bought 20 red and white roses. I arranged a picnic with Fanta Lemon and Nutella-filled empanadas. I wrote a postcard with our photo from the day he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I drove 45 minutes to the waterfall where we’d first met. Everything was perfect—almost exactly the same.

We had a great time. I laughed for the first time in ages. My favourite part was when we were playing the ‘don’t blink’ game, the last thing we’d done on our original date.

He won the first round we played. So I said to him;

“Come on, you’re cheating, that’s not fair.”

On our first date, I’d won every round of this game.

“Let’s go again, because this time I’m definitely going to win,” I exclaimed.

We started. I widened my eyes as much as possible, but after thirty seconds my eyes started to water. I blinked and burst out laughing because Antonio’s eyes hadn’t closed for about two hours. Brushing the dust off my trousers, I stood up to finally drag him away.

It’s just that, I don’t believe in divorce, and we made a vow in church…

till death do us part.