We could have a three-hour discussion about the Cubs, argue about the starting lineup, claim that the other person was an idiot in regards to their stance on the Bartman issue, then cook dinner together and watch a romantic comedy. All in one day.
Postscript: We dated for three years, and, after it all, he’s still my best friend.
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He gave me his less-than-hygienic habit of blowing one’s nose on a dirty T-shirt from the laundry pile. One day he was blowing his nose into an old gray tee when I felt my nose starting to run, and I grabbed the same shirt and started blowing, too. When I realized we were both standing in his room, unshowered, sick and blowing into the same snotty T-shirt, I knew.
Postscript: Nine months in!
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We texted back and forth for a while. I realized he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, which in my world is a bit of a turnoff. Then he texted me: “Every time I get a text from you, my dick sturrs.” It was the most inappropriate and cutest text anyone has ever sent me. And I loved it.
Postscript: My inbox is filled with dirty pictures. He is gorgeous, and I’ve learned to get over the grammatical divide.
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I drank too much and thought I might be sick. He came and sat on the bathroom floor with me so I wouldn’t be alone. I didn’t get sick, but I woke up over an hour later with him holding me in his arms on that cold floor. He smiled down at me and said I looked a lot happier after waking up.
Postscript: By the time we came back to school in the fall, it was definitely official. We have been dating for over a year now, and things are going really well.
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I had a terrible sore throat and felt pretty miserable. We took a walk on the beach, and he held me in his arms as we stared out at the water—my sore throat went away and I melted into his embrace. I felt invincible.
Postscript: That was about three months after we started dating. We’ve now been together for two-and-a-half years, and I’m more in love with him than ever.
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She fell asleep in my arms for the first time, and I laid in bed thinking, “Is this for real?” I couldn’t shut my eyes and my heart was pounding. I kissed her on the cheek. Nothing else mattered and everything felt right.
Postscript: We’ve been dating for two-and-a-half years, and I couldn’t be happier.
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I had almost fotgotten about my first love when she was there for me at a time when friends were few and far between.
Postscript: She’s happily married but I never forgot her support and I wish her the best.
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