Very soon after starting to date my husband, I suspected that we would marry. It’s not that the infatuation was more intense than in other relationships. It was just a sense of recognizing my husband, as if I were walking down the street and happened to run into an old friend.
—Rachel
Postscript: We have been married for 19 years.
I fell in love with my husband when he put my bicycle in a taxi cab during the Chicago riots of 1968. This was our first meeting.
—Diane
Postscript: We have been married for 41 years, and our daughter was a scholarship recipient of the 19th Century Charitable Association.
We were just friends, but I was always kinda into him & recently those feelings were getting more intense. Then, at a bookstore one day, he called to me from down the aisle, “Hey! Darling! What book is that?” My heart jumped, flipped, froze and melted.
– Ronni
Postscript: He can call me that anytime.
Our play had been a success, though of course I hadn’t liked it much. She’d been great, though, and somehow the looseness and wild relief of the after party buoyed me across the room to her. She said she’d never seen me like this – cheery, the smile on my face without a trace of irony.
— Steve
Postscript: We dangled our feet in a pool, later that night, and quietly talked till dawn as we watched the darting reflections on the water.
We began dating a week prior to my birthday. He bought me a gaming guide for World of Warcraft and a Bruce Campbell movie and poster—he paid attention to what I liked and didn’t get me the standard flowers or candy.
—Joralyn
Postscript: We’re married and happy and play WoW together. (Yep, we’re nerds!)
It was the end of high school. She’d been my crush for two years, the object of so many furtive glances. My every move toward her was planned, prioritized, considered, debated. We’d become friends; if not close, then trusting. In the final week of school, I tossed deliberation to the winds and asked her out.
— Dan
Postscript: We dated for five, heady months before the separation of college drove us apart.
Tired of trying the old singles party tricks , I went up to him – thin, a small smile beneath his lively eyes – and asked if he wanted to leave and grab some coffee. “Ok,” he said softly, “but only if we can talk about 50s noir while we drink.”
—Lisa
Postscript: We’re still drinking coffee, still watching 50s noir, and still adamantly avoiding the old singles’ parties.
