I remember the day that I first fell in love. I was thirteen, and the film Grease was playing on TV. And there he was. Cool, trendy, good looking and ready to do anything for his girl. He was of course John Travolta, and I had no doubt that he would turn up on my doorstep and ask me to marry him. Things didn’t quite work out like that – he went on to become a scientologist. And I took a different path to work out my own personal love story.

The stories and legends we grow up with make it tough for reality to live up to those kind of epic romances. I would have to be as beautiful as sleeping beauty – which meant that my prince had to be a strong testosterone fuelled hero who could chop down forests... which seemed a bit, well, Neanderthal to me.

I’d also have to be as lovely and caring as Cinderella who was nice to her wicked step sisters, but then I wasn’t sure I wanted to be with a prince who was so fickle that he could only recognise me when I was all dressed up. And on both counts, I didn’t feel like I needed to be rescued or saved from household drudgery or from a century long snooze. I was – still am – a modern woman, who is capable of saving herself.

The thing is though, I rather like the idea of having someone around not from financial and social necessity, but to support, love and encourage each other. Love for completion and fulfilment. Love that isn’t perfect or airbrushed, because love mostly isn’t.

It might be fun to play at princes and princesses (or doctors and nurses, if that’s your thing), but once you’ve taken away the pretty frocks, glass slippers and big castles, that’s when you know who both of you really are, and what you bring for each other.

The Qur’an talks of marriage as people created in pairs so that they can find contentment in each other, and between whom God has placed mercy, compassion and love.

The day that I did fall in love, and I saw myself in his eyes, that’s when I found out who I really was. And, in case you were wondering – he’s much better looking than John Travolta.