Looking back. 
I think it was a culmination of everything I’d seen, read, absorbed. 

I knew what I didn’t want. 

So perhaps it was the process of elimination. 
NOTE: You need to read this WHOLE post, because the beginning is not always an indication of the end.
I didn’t want a man who would ask me to make tea while we were watching a movie. 

I didn’t want to belong to a society that segregated women from men. 

I didn’t want to be the one cooking and cleaning.

I didn’t want to look after a child and compromise my career. 

I wanted to adopt. 

I wanted to dance. 

I didn’t want to be tied to traditions and old school formats. 
So. That was kind of my list. 

What I found out about V was yes to some. No to some. 

He would ask me to make him chai from time to time. Even bhajia (do you even know the effort it takes!), samosas, roti and puri! For him, food and care is love. These are his languages. I just know that I don’t need to plate up all the time. So I say no every now and then just to keep him on his toes. Which I’d highly recommend by the way. Otherwise these men really take you for a ride!

I married into a society even more traditional than my own. Thankfully, my in-laws weren’t. Of course, they tried. In their own ways. But luckily, I was born with a rebellious streak. Whilst I wanted their affection and approval, I realised this was coming at a cost. The cost was brutal. It made V unhappy and it made me unhappy. So I let it go. Unsurprisingly, they still love me. 
V couldn’t do much cooking or cleaning. To my huge dismay. He wanted a cleaner and I felt like it was too opulent. After all, we should all be able to clean up after ourselves shouldn’t we? This banter went on for quite some time, we tried a roster, less for him, more for me etc etc. Nothing worked. Then we tried a cleaner (after a counselling session) and it stuck. 
So based on the above initial points. I wasn’t really getting what I was after. Initially at least. But after some unravelling and counselling, we ended up coming to some super sweet compromises. 
Financially, V had nothing on him when we met. Salvation Army jeans. A coffee was a treat. He came from old money, but it was all tied up in legal affairs (still is). But. He was so damn ambitious. So relentlessly hard working. To the point it used to annoy me. But he’s always been true to that. 

Phone calls when we’re on family holidays. Meetings when he’s sick. I don’t know how. But I knew. He would make it through the fray. He would fulfil each and every dream he desired. I simply knew it and I never doubted it. 

I think that a woman who has faith in her man, is a magical thing. I know that sounds so lame. But. I did. I always told him I did. I still do. When it’s tough and we’re riding a slow, dry wave, I’ll tell him to hang in there. So many times, we’ve been about to go on holiday and the credit card is already maxed out. I’ve always told him to just wait. I think men need that. Faith. 
But the best thing about V? 

I think the reason why I really fell in love with him (no, it wasn’t just for his shoulders).
Was his mind. 

He didn’t know what Beyoncé looked like. 

He knew what ashrams looked like. 

His angle was often different to mine.

It gave me new ways of seeing things. 

Better ways. 
I’m sure I gave him better ways too. 
But it’s not about tit for tat. 
From him, I could learn. 
And I’d never felt like that with anyone before V. 

Someone who knew more than me about depth. About life. About harshness. About loving someone. About loving yourself. 
And I think. 

That is the only thing I really needed to fall in love with. 

Because that was the base. 
Everything else was just fluff.