Share Your Story

Throughout history stories of romantic meetings are chronicled and passed down through the ages.

Now it's your turn to share your story. We want to know,
So... How Did You Meet Anyway?


Saturday, October 27, 2012

Marry Me Fox

Ian and I met five years ago, when we started working together.
We were both single, and didn't know each other very well at all.  My boyfriend at the time (now ex, obviously) was very immature, and I would wonder why I couldn't find a responsible, mature, funny guy who was thoughtful and romantic. Ian was my go-to guy for advice throughout that whole terrible relationship. Of course it all ended pretty badly, and Ian was there to cheer me up.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

When You Know...You Know


Our story can be told one of two ways. The sweet and condensed version is that we met through mutual friends and the rest is history. Short and simple. But who likes short and simple?!
The extended (and much more interesting) version includes Eeyore in a hookah lounge, Facebook-stalking, and a grand scheme. It was late October 2009, and I headed downtown to have a couple drinks with a group of friends after a comedy show. In this group of friends was Danny's best friend who was dating one of my great friends, and we all ended up at a hookah lounge together. Our group grabbed a table outside and sat back to chat and enjoy a couple drinks.


Being that it was late October, apparently people were practicing for Halloween the next weekend…because in walked a guy in an Eeyore costume with a cute little pink-bowed tail.
The Eeyore-clad homeboy stood right in front of our table with that tail swingin’ just within distance of me. And just like Eeyore wants to be noticed, I was trying to get Danny to notice me, and in a moment of full (im)maturity I yanked on Eeyore’s tail.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Meant to Be



I peek out the window and note my tired reflection.

My hair, loosely ponytailed.
My eyes, darkly circled.
My face, washed bare.
Stark tree branches scrape against the house. My flickering screen mirrors the feeling.

I tuck my knees beneath me. The chair is hard, my back is sore. I lean in close- watching, waiting, ready.
Finally, I maneuver the fickle cursor to a chat room where strangers hide behind avatars that aren't their own. Realities in their backgrounds, escape at their fingertips.
I was twenty-two years old, a first year teacher by day, a graduate student by night, and a thesis writer by even later at night.