No fire­works, but per­fect pro­posal

Masinga mar­ried her best friend

Sunday World - - Life - By So­maya Stock­en­stroom

Ron­ice Masinga’s wed­ding dreams were quite vivid and ex­otic as a lit­tle girl.

A pro­posal on a ship, string quar­tets and fire­works as the fi­ancé slips a ring onto her finger.

Her ac­tual pro­posal lacked these glam­orous in­tri­ca­cies but it was “heav­enly” in all other as­pects.

David Nkhwazi chose a park­ing lot to pro­pose as he told Masinga of his undy­ing love for her and how he couldn’t breathe without her.

“Sit­ting in­side the car, he got out a tiny box con­tain­ing the most beau­ti­ful en­gage­ment ring and asked me to marry him! There were no fire­works in the sky. There was no mu­sic. Just me, David and the few cars splattered around the dark park­ing lot, north of Johannesburg. But there were fire­works in my heart, my heart thump­ing per­sis­tently against my chest – urg­ing me to say some­thing – and the tears flood­ing my face. I was in love with this man and the an­swer to his lin­ger­ing ques­tion was an in­dis­putable yes!” she gapes.

The two first met in 2011.

“His sis­ter was get­ting mar­ried. He was one of the grooms­men and the en­tire bridal party had met at his sis­ter’s place for the dance re­hearsal. I had ac­com­pa­nied my mom as she had ac­cepted a role as the la­dyin-wait­ing. She was the per­sonal bridal as­sis­tant, ser­vic­ing for the bride and groom on their wed­ding day. Al­though our par­ents knew each other through mu­tual so­cial gather­ings they had at­tended to­gether in the past, David and I had never met.”

Ron­ice says she was blown away by David’s good looks, fine physique and swag.

“I re­call steal­ing se­cret glances at him dur­ing the en­tire re­hearsal. Ob­vi­ously, I could not have him no­tice that I was blown away by his hand­some fea­tures and tall, lean torso.

“He didn’t no­tice me, though. Or so I thought..”

Al­most a year later, she was pleas­antly sur­prised when he tracked her down via Face­book.

“He ad­mit­ted that he had a re­lent­less long­ing to get to know ‘the girl with the big green eyes’ (I wore green con­tact lenses back then) since the first time he laid eyes on me the year be­fore at his sis­ter’s prewed­ding re­hearsal, but he had never found the courage.”

They went on a date in Oc­to­ber 2012.

“From the day we went on our first date, David looked at me with pierc­ing in­trigue. It mes­mer­ized me, and of­ten threw me off. I had never met some­one that gave me so much un­di­vided at­ten­tion.

“I will never for­get how we would sit in a restau­rant and each time I spoke, he would gaze at me as though there was no one else in the room,” she says.

They dated for just over three years and were mar­ried a few days be­fore their fourth dat­ing an­niver­sary.

Ron­ice says ev­ery mo­ment of their wed­ding, held at Moon and Six­pence in Mul­der­s­drift on Novem­ber 5 2016, was in­cred­i­bly mag­i­cal.

“I felt like I was cel­e­brat­ing an amaz­ing mile­stone with my best friend. My big­gest high­light was our first dance to Why I Love You, by Ma­jor. For those few min­utes, we felt like we were the only two peo­ple in the room and I fell in love with him over and over again.”

But af­ter the party, the tran­si­tion of liv­ing to­gether be­came a chal­lenge.

“We were al­ways to­gether, we trav­elled to work and back to­gether, were to­gether on week­ends. We fought con­stantly un­til one day we both reached break­ing point.

Af­ter tak­ing a few hours out sep­a­rately we came to­gether and dis­cussed our chal­lenges. Through pre­mar­i­tal coun­selling we had learned that we needed to hone our com­mu­ni­ca­tion skills.”

She says they now abide by the five-in­gre­di­ent rule to a happy mar­riage: pray­ing to­gether, com­mu­ni­ca­tion, self-love, be­ing ad­ven­tur­ous and un­con­di­tional mu­tual love and re­spect.

Ron­ice and David Nkhwazi learnt that they needed to work on their com­mu­ni­ca­tion skills for their mar­riage to work.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from South Africa

© PressReader. All rights reserved.