Comedian Anh Do can’t joke his way out of one situation with wife Suzanne

Comedian and writer Anh Do, 48, and his wife, writer Suzanne Do, 49, met 30 years ago at university. They have been happily married since 2001 and have four children – but they nearly didn’t make it past their wedding day.

Anh and Suzanne Do. “It was love at first sight for me,” says Anh. Credit: Dominic Lorrimer

Anh: In 1995, in my first class on my first day at the University of Technology, Sydney, I spotted this tall, blonde girl with a smile that lit up the room, talking with friends. It was love at first sight for me. Suzie and I quickly became friends, hanging out with the same group of people; we were both doing law and business. Suzie was so clever and generous at explaining things to me. Sometimes, I feigned not understanding to get her attention.

We started dating in 2000; I was still a student with no money. Once, when I picked Suzie up from her parents’ home, the bumper on my dodgy Nissan Pulsar fell off in their driveway. I had to borrow a coathanger from her mum to re-attach it. I felt like her parents were thinking, “Everything about this guy says ‘unsuitable’.”

I make decisions quickly, but Suzie has to weigh up all the pros and cons. Three months after we eventually started dating, I got down on one knee in the rain on Ettalong Beach [on the NSW Central Coast] and proposed. When she said yes, I thought I’d burst with happiness.

Suzie embraced everything about us getting engaged and married. She asked Mum what happened at a Vietnamese engagement party and Mum took her shopping for an áo dài [Vietnamese dress]. When I turned up at the party, she looked amazing.

‘There are ups and downs, of course, but our marriage has only become more magical over time.’

She’ll always try new things. When she came with me to a big Vietnamese family event [before we were married], one of my uncles offered her this weird dish made of offal – like a Vietnamese black pudding. Without hesitation, Suzie tried it and said it was delicious. Then she offered it to the aunties. “No way!” they said. “Even we don’t eat that stuff!”

Our 2001 wedding was in the church at St Aloysius [in Sydney]. It was raining, but just as we said our vows, the sun burst through the stained-glass window. I was crying so much; all my dreams had come true. I’m told it was magical – and that’s what our life has been like. There are ups and downs, of course, but our marriage has only become more magical over time.

Suzie was on the uni debating team, so she’s good at winning arguments. That’s annoying. If I sense I’m not going to win, I try humour, but that can get me into even more trouble. Recently, our 15-year-old son, Leon, wanted to play in an open rugby tournament. I thought he should, but Suzie thought he shouldn’t because he’d be playing against older boys and he had a lead role in the school production of The Little Mermaid that week; he was playing Sebastian the crab. “What if he breaks his arm?” she asked. I said, “If his arm’s in a red cast, he’ll look even more crabby.” I lost that argument.

Anh and Suzanne Do at their wedding at St Aloysius, 2001.Credit: Courtesy of Anh and Suzanne Do

Recently, we were at a James Taylor concert, listening to his beautiful voice. It dawned on me that we’re not on this planet forever and I started bawling as I realised I wouldn’t have this gorgeous woman sitting next to me forever. I’m 48 now; if I’m lucky, I’ll get another 40 years with her. Even that’s not enough time.

Suzie: I first met Anh outside the university library. He had floppy hair and a big smile and I thought he seemed like a nice guy. We quickly became close friends. Anh asked me out on a date after six months, but I said I didn’t want to risk ruining the friendship if it didn’t work out. I’m slow to make decisions.

We were quite flirty friends, though. Sometimes we’d argue about silly things, which was part of the flirting. One day, I got off the phone annoyed after arguing with Anh and my dad said, “I think you’re going to marry that boy, Suzie,” I just went, “Right, Dad.”

When we finally started dating in 2000, it felt solid and true. I’d done all my pondering. He knew me as well as anyone.

Anh tried hard to impress my parents. One day, he came over and Dad was jack-hammering tiles around the pool. Anh offered to help, thinking Dad would say no, but he accepted. We were all inside, watching him. I asked Dad to tell him to stop, but he refused; he wanted to see how long Anh would last. Finally, after two hours, he finished. Dad went out and said, “Good job. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

‘We were quite flirty friends. We’d argue about silly things, which was part of the flirting.’

Life’s never dull with Mr Anh. At our wedding reception in 2001 at Taronga Park Zoo, we’d arranged for decorations from a prop hire guy, including a small, decorative rickshaw. We decided to use it to get down the steep hill to the jetty, with Anh pulling it and me sitting inside. As we were waving goodbye to our guests, it suddenly picked up speed and Anh said, “Oh crap, the brakes don’t work!” All I could think was, “Oh, my god, we’re going to die. Imagine the story: Couple die in rickshaw at their wedding.” Somehow, Anh steered us to safety.

Anh is exceptionally good at whatever he sets his mind to, from painting to comedy. Top of the list of things he wants to be good at are being a husband and father. His dad left when he was 12 and, as the eldest of three, he took on a surrogate parenting role. His need to look after his family is rooted in that experience.

I feel secure in Anh’s love for our family; he’ll always put us first. We have four children, three sons and one daughter [ages 11 to 22] and, from the early days, he has sacrificed work opportunities to be available in school holidays. We’ve been married nearly 25 years and it’s been amazing. I feel grateful each day that I chose the right one.

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It is annoying, though, when he tries to defuse an argument by saying something funny. He thinks it will make me laugh, but it doesn’t. Recently, when we were walking our chihuahuas, Peach and Pork Chop, I wanted to go up a steep hill and Anh wanted to stick to the flat path. He broke into a high-pitched, “chihuahua” voice: “Why are you making me go up the big hill? I only got little legs, lady!”

It wasn’t funny. We ended up going up the hill. Say what you like Mr Funny Man, we need more exercise!

Suzanne’s new book, The Golden Sister, is out now.

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