best of smart
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.
Postscript: We have been married for 19 years.
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We were at a used book store, grabbing as many novels as we could. After realizing they only accepted cash, we both immediately pulled out all we had and decided we would share whatever we bought – no words were exchanged to confirm this. We stood staring at the racks for over an hour trying to find the best ones with his arm wrapped around me. I realized that it was what I’d been waiting for.
Postscript: We were together for a few amazing months before it wasn’t what we wanted anymore.
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It was love when I took his class. He was my professor in college, and there was no avoiding the connection that blossomed. Music, movies, techonology, and education – we haven’t spent more than 3 weeks (accumulated) apart in 7 months.
Postscript: We love each other like no other.
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I met him at work and only hardly knew him when I blurted out an incredibly cheeky, low-brow remark. I immediately regretted it, but he laughed heartily. Later I asked him if he had seen the film Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay and he replied by quoting me lines from the film. That’s when I first fell for him.
Postscript: It didn’t last. I still miss him and feel awful about messing it up. And I still love Harold and Kumar.
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best of smart
We both have the “go for the joke” gene—that risk-taking, occasionally destructive tendency to joke about anything, anywhere. Early on, I knew she was smart, funny, willing to take chances and shared the same twisted sense of humor. I would never be bored, always challenged and we could laugh about anything. That’s huge.
Postscript: We married three years later, after many laugh-so-hard-it-hurts landmarks and the occasional joke dud. She still makes me laugh.
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After a few days sending ridiculously flirty texts, she sent me an email which discussed esoteric readings of that week’s Torah portion. She was unsurprised when I had an even more esoteric reading in response.
Postscript: Our next meeting somehow found a golden mean between the two.
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best of smart
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.”
Postscript: We’re still drinking coffee, still watching 50s noir, and still adamantly avoiding the old singles’ parties.
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