#MyValentine: When God throws a woman on your table

On our wedding day, my husband was asked, "Where and how did you meet your wife?" He looked at my face with this broad grin. I told him, "You better don't say, or I'll kill you." How we met is a story too far. We hardly talk about it. It's our secret.

So when he took the mic he said, "How the two of us met was a miracle. It's God's way of throwing a woman on your table with the inscription; "This one is for you." She appeared from nowhere and I immediately knew she was the one."

Everything he said was a lie except the table part. I appeared on his table but I don't think it was God who threw me there.

It was a week before Valentine. I had a date with a guy I met on Facebook. We had been online friends for a couple of months and had fallen in love with each other but yet to meet in person. He was in Australia and I was in Ghana. He came to Ghana that February and I were supposed to meet him on Valentine's day.

I wanted our first date together to be perfect. I wanted to present a perfect me to him on that very day so I went to see a gynecologist. There was this condition I wanted to heal before meeting him.

They directed me to a room. A nurse came and got me prepared for the gyne to attend to me. I was lying on the table naked, hoping to see a lady gyne to attend to me. Then I heard a voice, "How are you, lady?" I got frozen. "A guy? A gyne who is a guy?"

I was shy and I was embarrassed but he did all he could to put me at ease. He asked questions with this care in his voice. He made some jokes to make me smile and be less tense. He said, "Everything should be fine but you should visit again in the next six days."

The next six days was Valentine's day. It was the day I was meeting my special one. So I asked him, "Couldn't it be earlier? I would be traveling on the 14th." Then he said, "The next six days is 14th? Wow. You're traveling for Val's day celebration, right?" He smiled and I smiled back.

I returned the early morning of the 14th of February. He checked on me and prescribed some medications. He said, "Don't have sex until these drugs are finished. You should be fine after that."

I went home, took some of the drugs and started reacting badly. I couldn't breathe well and I started sweating profusely. So I rushed back to the hospital again. After checking on me he said, "You need to rest here for a while. I need to ensure you're alright before you leave."

I spent the rest of my day at the clinic. When I was leaving in the evening he said, "Go home and have a good night's sleep but in case there's any challenge, here you are (he handed me a sheet), call my number."

I opened the sheet of paper on my way home. There was a number and a message; "Sorry to mess up your Valentine's day. There's more to come. Happy Val's day."

Indeed my Val's day was messed up. I couldn't meet my online boyfriend. I told him I was sick. I told him I was reacting to a drug a doctor gave me so I couldn't meet him. He thought I was making excuses not to see him. He got angry. He said a lot of annoying stuff and hung up on me. That was the end. He never picked my calls but my health was very important.

Any slightest sign of discomfort got me calling gyne to complain. He was Charles.

"Charles, why am I having rashes here and there?"

"Charles, is it normal for me to feel dizzy after taking this drug?"

"Charles, I think I'm getting better but is there anything I should do so I don't experience this and that again?"

He was kind. He was considerate. He tolerated all my nuisance and stupid questions even at odd hours. It became the norm. We were always on the phone talking or chatting. Our conversations moved from my health to other areas of our lives; upbringing, profession, love, disappointment and what have you. One night, he proposed and I said yes.

Love took over. Close to two years after dating, we got married. So on our wedding day when he said God threw me on his table, that wasn't a lie. I was that girl who was lying naked on his table that day and he was that guy looking through me to find what was wrong with me but he couldn't say that. It would have been too much information.

—Sandra, Ghana

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