best of super sweet
1940: sophomores in high school — I invited him on a moonlight cruise on Lake Michigan and instant love on first date. Seven years later, including WWII overseas, we married.
Postscript: Eight children later and a long goodbye next to him in the hospital, he went with the angels to God. A marvelous long love story — never over.
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During my stay in Buenos Aires, he told me that he loved me after three short weeks. He didn’t speak any English, so I tried to explain to him he didn’t know how strong of a word he was using. A week later, when I went to visit his suburb, I realized that almost every day for the past few weeks, he had walked 20 minutes from his house, spent one hour on the train, and another hour on a bus, just to meet me in the city where I lived, not once mentioning the long journey it took to get there.
Postscript: We have been apart for almost 6 months. Still madly in love with him, I am going back to Argentina in two months for another semester abroad. TKM [te quiero mucho].
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Love is like finding the perfect pair of shoes. When I met my husband, it was like finding a pair of shoes that were so comfortable, strong and beautiful; I knew I would walk in them forever.
Postscript: We’ve been walking together ever since.
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We had plans to go out, but I got a really bad cold and had to cancel. He called to see how I was feeling and said he was out running errands. About five minutes after we hung up, the doorman called and said I had a package. I found a care package of chicken noodle soup, orange juice, cough drops and a beautiful sunflower plant.
Postscript: I was so touched because he was so thoughtful and he didn’t even know if I liked him. We started dating and got engaged five months later.
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It just so happened the other six people we were supposed to meet on the train platform to go to a movie never showed up (not a date). The train moved three blocks and then shut down. While it was stalled, we chatted with a bum: bottle in a bag, week-old beard. “How long you two been together?” “Oh, no, we’re not dating.” He took a swig. “Uh-huh.” Then, confidingly, to the boy: “You stick with her, my man; that’s the one you gonna marry.”
Postscript: We were together nine years before we got married six years ago. Two kids. We still take the train to movies.
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As soon as I heard the twinkling opening tune of my all-time favorite song, “String of Pearls” by Glen Miller, my legs were already itching to get out on the dance floor. The wedding reception of mutual friends was where my favorite song, met my favorite guy. I couldn’t help it; I led through most of the song and even accidentally swung my future husband that night into the reception hall post.
Postscript: “String of Pearls” still does it to me – reminding me of staring love in the eyes and never wanting to let go.
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I was picking up my four-year-old daughter at a friend’s house, and my husband-to-be was retrieving his canoe. He came up and asked if I canoed. I said yes, but how about my daughter? When he said that she was more than welcome to join the fun, love began.
Postscript: We’ve been married 34 years and have five daughters and five grandchildren.
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