I'd like to share the story of how I met my husband. Because it's weird and cute. And lately we have been fighting a lot so a friend of mine asked me to recall some old memories, the fond ones, to make me reconsider his current flaws.
To be honest, I've shared the story before. Not with you guys. But I wrote it down as a short story. The story is too long to be shared here, so never mind that.
Here goes:
I was diagnosed with 'anxiety attacks' after a while of uncontrollable hysterical situations where I could do nothing but curl up and cry until the fear had faded and my body stopped shaking. Horrible times. I went on medication for it instantly due to my job, which I didn't want to lose, but decided therapy would be nice to accompany it with so I could, in the long run, learn to control the mental disorder. Or at least learn how to live with it.
My doctor was nice enough to send me to a group therapy session at a large hospital in Copenhagen. I really didn't want to go the first night, cause I was already late and it was raining hard.
When I first stepped into the room, I was petrifried at the group of people there. Mostly old people, or, older than me at least. They each took their turn (very LONG turns) in explaining how their life sucked. I didn't pay attention.
But then I looked down and saw a sheet of paper that contained the names of the group's members. And I saw his name, Hiroshi. And only then looked up to spot him.
"You're Japanese?"
"How do you know? Only half though.."
"How do you know? Only half though.."
"Heh. Cool."
And then, after the first therapy session, when I fled the room, he chased me down the hallway and out into the rain. All the way to the central station (quite far), and I don't even think I managed to speak a single word. He was talking that much. About his heritage, about Japan, about his anxiety attacks, about how he's never met a blonde girl that spoke Japanese.
After two sessions, I went on Facebook. To stalk him in return. To be honest, I didn't think much of him until I browsed his profile and the many pictures he had. Knowing I'd miss the next session, I sent him a message on Facebook instead. And on and on we went chatting through Facebook.
It was so much easier to talk on Facebook than face to face, when face to face is at the psychiatric ward where you spend the majority of your time wailing, while explaining how you can't control your tears at times and just think the world is about to end on you.
After a month or so, he asked me out on a date and we made out by the end of it.
A month later, he gave me a key to his apartment. The excuse was to 'expose my fears'.
A month later, I officially moved in.
And six months later, I was pregnant with his child.
Three months later, we got married.
And here we are!
Emma is growing every night it seems. So does our arguments. /sigh.
I think it's mainly because we're both at home now. In our small apartment. Driving each other crazy.
Anyway. I love him. Mostly because he will do everything for me. Honestly. I can disregard his childishness, disregard his stupid questions and I can deal with his yelling because he has a really bad temper - because I know he would do anything.
Like today. I didn't sleep so much because we moved Emma to her own bed in her room, so I woke up every hour, afraid I'd overheard her crying. So I was tired. And being tired usually brings a bad mood. So to cheer me up, he tried (I have to emphasize the word tried) to perform Nothing's Over dance by the cutesy teenage Korean pop-band Infinite. Trying his best to sing Korean. It was hilarious.
Then he took me and Emma out for lunch on a cozy café by the beach. Saved the day. ^_^
Emma had a good day today too. As you can see. Tee hee~
I looked at the internet today for hoodies and came across this.
I can't help but like it. Even though it comes with a tail!
Like the model's hair even more so. Stupid scandinavian hair that won't sit like that. T_T
I'ma just go sit on the sofa with my pineapple juice now that Emma is sleeping. G'nite!
