I knew I was in love when I walked my boyfriend out to his car. It was about 10 degrees, dead of winter and we were talking and kissing and I realized we were out there for almost two hours, shivering in the cold but it didn’t matter because we were together. The temperature, or the time of night (morning) didn’t even register whatsoever.
Postscript: We still manage to lose track of time when we are together.
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We were kids, sitting at the end of the dock on an August night. We stared up at sky and watched a meteor shower with our knobby knees touching. A shooting star raced through the sky and he turned to me and asked me what I wanted more than anything in the world. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to spend every minute of every day with him for the rest of my life. But being a shy 12-year-old, I lied and said I wanted a boat. It’s been 10 years and now I know he wished the same thing on that star.
Postscript: We are almost 21 now, and still together.
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It was New Year’s Eve, and we were drunk. We made out in her kitchen while her mom was arguing with our annoying Russian friend. She told me she loved me, and I said “I love you, too.” And I meant it. We dated in secret until the end of high school. During our first year at separate colleges, I broke up with her, not realizing it would be me with the broken heart.
Postscript: I’ve always wondered what my life would be like had we never split up.
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“Will you be my special friend?” he asked me one hot Texas summer night. We’d known each other for months, and I was already in love with him. We shared an awkward kiss and then sprawled on his backyard. The next year he moved to Chicago, and we sent mixed tapes and letters back and forth. He returned the next year so we could merge our mixed tapes. Two years later he convinced me to move back to Chicago with him. He dumped me the next year.
Postscript: Yet another year has gone by. We’re still friends, but neither of us has found a new special friend.
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I discovered physical love with him. He was funny and original. We were married for 17 years. We had two children together. During our marriage, sourness began to overtake the sweetness, and I was relieved when it was over.
Postscript: We’re forever bound by our children and remain friends.
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I saw a cute guy dressed in white pants, a black-and-white checkered shirt, and a white sailor’s cap. His smile melted me. I saw him every day about the same hour, usually at dusk. I was in love with him, but he had all sorts of girlfriends, and I just knew I would never be one of them.
He left our hometown three years later to go to boarding school in Portugal, and we started corresponding. In one of his letters, he told me he regretted not having really known me. I would occasionally return to Portugal to visit my family, but I never visited the bank where he was the president, fearing the old feelings of love would return.
Postscript: After he passed away, it was my turn to regret never having gone into the bank to see him.
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I broke up with my then-boyfriend, who wrote about his feelings on his LiveJournal. A guy I barely knew read it and sent me a message on instant messenger asking if I wanted to go out sometime. We went to see The Incredibles. I thought I was going on a rebound date, but he was so easy to love that just a few weeks later, I realized I was going to marry him.
Postscript: We’ve been married two years now, and he’s become even easier to love.
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