Month: February 2015

From the first date, the first day they met he was different with her than with all the ones that came before.

She would find out later that it was unusual behavior for him to go pick up his date, to bring her presents, to surprise her, to woo her. To her, this was just the way all of her boyfriends behaved. To him this was just different.

“How do you get him to do that?” her friend would ask when he did the wooing things. And my sister would look at her, baffled, not understanding the question. To her it was simple, this was the standard of behavior she expected. Anything less would have meant there wasn’t a second date, or a third.

She hadn’t realized how seriously their relationship was to him because he wasn’t the effusive type. He was quiet and self-contained. And she never had a clue.

They’d been going out for less than six months when he proposed the first time. She wasn’t ready and asked him to take the question back. Five months later she was ready for the question and answered “yes.” It wasn’t until then that she realized that this was serious to her too.

And they agreed on the wedding plans. And they agreed on where to live. And they agreed on how to handle their finances. And they agreed on many many things… {{to be continued, since the story is still being written.}}

image source: joakant / Pixabay

This is a semi-fictional story.

He was her first kiss. Her first real date. Her first boyfriend. Her first love.

He was the first boy she introduced to her parents. The first guy who was allowed into her room. The first one to really get her.

They went to different high schools, but were both entering junior year when they met while working at the same summer job. It was his goofy sense of humor, she will tell you, that she first noticed. He made her laugh. It was, however, his exceptional manners that won over her parents.

Everyone thought that they would break up while in college, that the distance would be the end of them. But it wasn’t. They survived and thrived during four years in neighboring cities (they weren’t really that far apart) and the years of medical school.

Somewhere between medical school and their residency they had the big wedding. Her family and his family, her friends and his, they were all there.

Shortly after she decided not to become a doctor and transferred to a research track. Regular hours. Lower stress. More time for the husband.

Almost every member of her family was dismayed. They were all convinced he was at fault somehow. That she wasn’t able to pursue his dream and it was due to him.

Despite their disapproval, she’s very happy with her career and her life. And she lived happily ever after… one day at a time.

This is a semi-fictional story.

He had been her best friend since middle school, the boy next door. In high school he taught her to roller skate and drove her home after school, since he had a car and she didn’t. He was her best bud at the college they both attended. He sat in the bride’s side of the chapel when she got married. He served her tequila shots and junk food while she recovered from her divorce.

It was during one of these tequila-induced “damn the soulless bastard” evenings that comfort took a more physical outlet.

“We were both appalled the next day,” she says now, years later. “We were sure we’d just destroyed the friendship.” They made a vow that it would never happen again. Then they found themselves unable to keep it.

Two months later her divorce became final… and the little stick showed a plus sign.

He proposed immediately. And she said “no” immediately.
He proposed again. She declined again.

They were going to raise the child together, and stay best friends.Their families were unconvinced. He was unconvinced. She was determined. “I had one failed marriage, and I thought I loved him. I was not going to get married again just because I was married.”

But they did end up getting married, though she didn’t have another big wedding. They sneaked off to a justice of the peace shortly before their son made his first appearance.

Ten years and three kids later (two more after the surprise), she says that she doesn’t really know when she realized that she was, in fact, in love with the man who is now her husband. “I kept thinking that I didn’t feel the same way about him as about my first husband. I recognized ‘that’ as love, as being in love. But I’d love D for most of my life, as a friend, and I just couldn’t see past it.”

Just because it took while doesn’t mean it wasn’t a love story.