We had seen each other in passing at our dorm at UNH, and had even swiped on each other on online dating websites, but hadn't talked in person until he had the courage to talk to me in a grungy frisbee-house basement. We went on our first date the very next morning, as if we were worried each other would let the opportunity slip through our fingers. I talked for what felt like hours, he listened. That dynamic hasn't really changed. Two weeks later, school shut down for COVID- our first of three long distance summers. We got good at Facetime dates, and fell in love. After school, we settled into an apartment in Dover, adopted our furry daughter Pippy (née: Pippa), and grew even closer together. He proposed to me on a beach we had found sea glass on for years, how could I have said no?

Emma and I met in person for the first time right after I got the hint that she wasn’t interested. I had sent several unanswered texts in a row and decided I needed to stop bugging her. This made it especially awkward when we made accidental eye contact at a party. I assumed she thought that the guy who wouldn’t stop messaging her had now followed her to a party. For this reason I felt obligated to let her know that I was not a threat, and that I would leave her alone. We ended up talking for the rest of the night. When her roommates came to rescue her from our conversation I feared that I’d never be able to reach her again. Before she left I asked her to get breakfast with me in the morning and she said yes. I’ve been bugging her ever since.