Timing
We first met as teens at a family gathering; she was a distant relative of my uncle’s wife. At 14, we shyly smiled at each other from opposite ends of the garden. Then, at 20, we crossed paths again at a wedding—both with our partners—but I couldn’t take my eyes off her all night.
At 28, our next meeting was at my uncle’s funeral. She was kind, but I was focused on grieving (I loved my uncle dearly).
When I was 35, we bumped into each other in a parking lot; she was just separating from her husband and wasn’t ready to date. At 42, she was at another family event, but I was there with my wife and two kids. Last year, at 48, after my divorce, I looked her up on Facebook and saw she’d married two years earlier and was happily smiling beside her husband in every photo. I haven’t given up hope yet—maybe fate will bring us together in our golden years.
Freedom
I was 26 and had just ended a six-year relationship. A friend’s girlfriend introduced me to a classmate, and the chemistry was instant. That very night, I told her I’d been committed and faithful since I was 20, so now I wanted a little freedom.
She understood, and we started a four-month "friends with benefits" arrangement—but we also went to the movies and cooked dinner for each other, almost like dating.
Eventually, she told me she’d met someone else and wanted to end our agreement. We said goodbye at a café—she cried, and I wished her all the happiness. She’s been living in Portugal with that guy for seven years, married and expecting their first child. I’ve never found anyone better, and probably never will. If I hadn’t clung to my "freedom," she might be happy with me now.
Word for Word
We struck up a conversation at a bar in a club. My friends were outside chatting about cars, and her girlfriends were dancing wildly by the DJ. We found a quiet corner and talked for four hours until closing time.
She had an ex-boyfriend but they weren’t on good terms. I was starting a new job abroad in a week, so we agreed not to exchange contacts—if life wanted it, it would bring us back together.
That was 17 years ago, and I’m still waiting. I don’t even know her last name, just our first names. I remember everything we talked about—her favorite movie, food, hobbies, interests, and how she thinks about so many things. I haven’t forgotten a thing about her.
Fruzsi
Fruzsi is my best friend’s sister, and I was secretly in love with her even as a kid. As teens, my stomach would flutter whenever I ran into her at my friend’s place. She was stunning, but I never dared ask her out—I was afraid of what my friend might think.
At 22, we talked all night at a party; the air between us was electric. Just as I was about to kiss her, she stood up and said she had to go home to study for an exam the next day. We didn’t see each other for ten years, until a chance meeting at a concert where she was with her husband. When he went to get drinks, I blurted out that she’d been my love since childhood.
Fruzsi just stood there, mouth open, saying she’d waited hours at that party ten years ago for me to kiss her because she’d always loved me too. But since I never made a move, she thought I didn’t feel the same. We looked at each other with tears in our eyes, until her husband returned with the drinks and broke the spell.
Long-Distance Relationship
She was a solid 10, and I still don’t know what she saw in me. I was struggling at university while she was top of her class; I drank and smoked, she rode horses and volunteered. She was leagues ahead of me—a total catch. Yet I broke up with her because I was moving to the US for two years to stay with a friend and didn’t want a girlfriend back home I had to be faithful to. I didn’t believe in long-distance relationships.
That was 15 years ago. She’s still just as beautiful and a happy mom of two, while I’m still the same guy who smokes and drinks. Those two years with her were the best of my life.
