On marriage

 

When I first met Manny, I knew he's someone special. I adore his laid-back worldview. On one of our first dates, having dinner at Lahore Tikka House on Gerrard sometime in 2017, we ended up starting a conversation about what Black Lives Matter did the previous year at Pride. I told him that I fully supported their action, and that I was there on that day, volunteering as a marshall for the parade. Then, after saying my piece about the subject, I paused, took a deep breath, and asked him what he thought of what BLM did. I braced for impact. I knew that some in the community were not as supportive. I've seen the backlash happen.

"I think they [BLM] were genius to do what they did, and how they did it!" he said.

From that point on, I knew that my spirit would forever find comfort in his presence. The thing is, back then, for me, how a person received BLM's 2016 Pride intervention was an indication of whether I'd vibe with them or not.

The sex was, to be honest, nothing spectacular at first. At least, for me. Our sex life has evolved over the years to something deeper and intimate. More on that later in this piece.

Manny and I just celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary on Jun 16 this year. In those years, we've gone through many things. From navigating multiple moves within the city, to sharing a home with my family, to having long discussions around open marriage, to talking through my relapses, and many more.

What I noticed we have always done is to hold each other. We both know that the both of us are made up of our respective experiences, friends, past bf's, careers, education, and others. We seem to have built a life where he and I can both cheer each other on as we pursue what we're individually and both passionate about. Throughout the years that I've known him, he has developed a calling for studying Buddhist philosophy and learning the Tibetan language. I, on the other hand, continued to grow into my passion for community development and volunteerism.

There have been challenges, for sure. It has been a running source of my annoyance that doing manual labour and house work doesn't come naturally to him. Because of that, I sometimes feel overwhelmed and experience some resentment when I feel like I'm doing most of the house work. But, I have to check myself sometimes because I do see Manny doing chores around the house. He washes dishes, he makes the bed, he sometimes sweeps. I ask him to leave the laundry for me because, I think, I do a better job folding and sorting them out. So, sometimes, I do question my own perception.

Another source of challenge to our marriage was my relapse in 2019. It was my first relapse since 2014, and the first after getting married. I remember convincing him that I wanted to "micro dose". The implication was that I was planning to incorporate injecting small amounts of t on a regular basis in my life. Manny, needless to say, was totally against it. One memorable night, we were at his apartment and we just went back and forth of him pleading that I stop, and me trying to tell him that it'll be ok. I still feel a lot of sadness when I think back to that night, the way he bawled and cried and begged me to stop. After what felt like hours of him crying and begging, something came over me that caused me to surrender and let go. I promised him that I'll stop. The day after, I threw away all my paraphernalia, ending a 3-week relapse.

What I remember during that relapse was that, because of the t, I found myself feeling extra horny. Thankfully, Manny was game. I remember us having sex one night where I just orally serviced him for what felt like hours. I licked him up and down with my tongue, sucking his cock, rimming his hole, kissing him. I knew that the T played a part in enhancing the sensation. What I learned from the relapse was that I could orally service Manny and totally relish and enjoy the experience. I loved how the experience made him squirm and moan under the sheets.

That sort of gave me a glimpse of what our sex life could be. After my 2019 relapse, we continued on our marriage. Another relapse happened in the fall of 2024. Looking back, I realized that my life was quite chaotic that time, brought on, for the most part, by my sister's and her partner's sudden separation. It was then that I realized just how much my family now looked to me and Manny to lead the family. Instead of stepping up to the challenge, I crumbled, and went on another 3-week relapse. I was able to keep it secret from Manny for a while, but he found out, eventually.

"I need you," he said to me one night.

So I stopped again, and I seek help from CAMH. I'll talk more in detail what has kept me in sobriety these past few months. But, I think, my relapse has only made my relationship with Manny stronger. When he said he needed me, I felt that in my core.

Much of relationships, I realized, isn't really about the big, life-changing, earth-shattering events and choices. Rather, they're made up of the mundane. The simple things. Conversations over morning coffee, the quick text messages as we check in on each other, the many ways we make space for each other's passions, choices, anxieties, questions, and other stuff.

We're still in an open marriage, and making love with each other has been exactly that: making love. We relish in making each other feel good. I looove the way he moans when I go down on him. I looove the way his nipples stay erect as I flick the tip of my tongue around them. While penetration doesn't happen often, he still manages to make me cum without touching myself most of the time that we do find the time to make love.

Part of the mundane is also how Manny and I relate to each other's families. Because we feel like our relationship is strong, we can afford to call each other in whenever we feel that the other one is falling short. In times when I have disagreements with my own family-and this happens a lot-Manny is always taking on the role of the conciliator. Publicly, he'll take my family's side over me. Ever the one who sees the good in people, he's always very forgiving when it comes to my own family. I, on the other hand, can be very short and impatient with my own. I am the one calling out my family's sh*t, pushing them to do better. And, it's not easy. I come from a family whose elders are used to avoiding hard conversations. They're either taking on the role of a victim or blowing up after periods of unspoken and built-up resentments. There's been a lot of tension because, I, for one, am no longer interested in living with pointless chaos and uncertainty.

I don't mean uncertainty about the future, or the unknown. But, rather, uncertainty around, for example, child care. My sister and brother need the family's help in caring for their own respective children. The tension comes up, sometimes, when I ask that they be more communicative and proactive when scheduling child care. It'd be great if they can let us know ahead of time when they need us to look after our kaanakans. My parents, are not the most assertive people. They'll usually say yes even when they mean no. Instead, they turn around and talk about their resentments with other people. It's been taxing for Manny and I in trying to coordinate and communicate with everyone.

Sometimes, I make myself feel good by telling myself that maybe my brother and sister lack communication skills right now is because they're overwhelmed parents. Yes, my brother has his wonderful wife. But both are working full time jobs, with a mortgage, and church volunteer work. Can I then give them a pass? Can I give my single-mother sister a pass as "overwhelmed parents"?

And, I also wonder, why aren't they not able to care for their kids on their own? Are they not earning enough to pay for child care? If not, then who is responsible for underpaying them? What kind of a social and economic system that we have that does not give parents the critical resources they need to thrive? Can we fight for free child care policies? Can we fight for fair and equitable wages? Or, are we voting for politicians who make our lives worse? Are we voting for politicians who keep us under the poverty line? Lastly, guess which political parties both my sister and brother support. Let me give you a hint: they have a conservative worldview.

Still, I do wish for a better and constructive working relationship with them. Because, what about my time? Who is there to care for Manny's time? He and I also have commitments. We have our own lives to live, too. What about us? How do we move forward?

Yet, Manny and I persevere. We stay strong and supportive of each other, no matter what. Are there times when we fail each other? Yes, all the time. But, when we do, we try to care for the rupture with tenderness and love.