It was January 2003 and I was about to start my studies at the University of Johannesburg – and had officially sworn off relationships. I’d had two serious relationships in high school, both with older boys, where I felt I needed to change who I was in order to be with them. I was done trying to please others and saw university as my fresh start to be truly me.
The university had a start-of-the-year tradition – the campus residences would create and parade their floats for charity. My group was tasked with folding blommetjies vou (polystyrene-filled cellophane flowers) for our float, which was based on the Lord of the Rings movie.
I was drawn to Rico, who was in my group, and his friendly, sparkly blue eyes. We were worlds apart – I was from an English background in a female residence; he was Afrikaans and in a male day house. But we had so much in common: a love of cartoon movies; being head students and studying Stem subjects (engineering for him, mathematics for me); and the pressures that came with the latter two. Over those next few days, as we talked and folded flowers, I felt Rico was someone who was not only on my level intellectually and emotionally, but also valued my feelings and strengths.
I remember feeling disappointed one night when he asked every one of my friends to dance. But by the end of the evening he came over and said he’d saved the best for last, and we spent the last few songs in each other’s arms.
One day, I was folding flowers with Rico and one of his “friends”. I could feel tension but didn’t think too much about it. When Rico stood up to fetch more staples, his friend turned to me and angrily hissed: “You know he’s dating someone else, right?” My heart fell through the floor.
When he came back, I was too devastated to say anything. He kept asking what was wrong but every time I looked up, his friend would glare at me, so I said nothing. He asked to speak to his friend outside and they walked off. I suddenly started sobbing because it hit me – I’d fallen for him, hard.
Over the next few days, I refused to speak to him. I was too scared of my feelings, I didn’t want a relationship, and I thought if I avoided him, my feelings would disappear. But thankfully he was more stubborn than me.
I left to work on a different area of the float and he convinced the seniors to allow him to carry a huge wire Gollum across campus just so he could talk to me. He explained how his previous relationship had finished before we met, and that friend was upset and wanting to cause trouble. I made him swear that no matter what happened, he would never lie to me. We spoke for hours after that and had our first kiss.
On float day, where first years parade alongside the floats, we walked together, holding hands. As we rounded a corner some senior students started throwing water balloons at us first years. There was nowhere to hide, and as a huge balloon came hurtling straight towards me, Rico jumped in front of it – and was drenched. The balloons kept coming, but he kept taking them. For the first time in my life, someone was willing to stand up for me.
He proposed four years later, after a day of waterfall abseiling, in the middle of the Drakensberg mountains – he’d chartered a helicopter to fly us there. We had a small wedding later that year; our first dance was to I’m a Believer by Smash Mouth. We now have five amazing kids and homeschool them together on our just-built four-hectare property in the south of New Zealand.
Rico is the only one who knows absolutely everything about me, warts and all. He gave me the greatest gift of all: the ability to find myself over time and then be wholly and truly me. He’s shown me how to open my heart to others – while saving me from water balloons along the way.
Tell us the moment you knew
Do you have a romantic realisation you’d like to share? From quiet domestic scenes to dramatic revelations, Guardian Australia wants to hear about the moment you knew you were in love.