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.
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.
— Jon
Postscript: Our next meeting somehow found a golden mean between the two.
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.
Seeing a new play, a pert be-skirted woman sat down on the seat next to me. As the play progressed, I grew a little tired of the actors, but the set kept on impressing me. “I wish the cast would leave and I could just hang out on the set,” I said to my mysterious companion. “I designed that,” she said immediately.
—Rob
Postscript: We did hang out on the set that night, and it turned out our love of her work wasn’t the only thing we have in common.
