Whenever I get asked how I met The Boy, this is the story I tell.
I had been offered a new job, working for a charity, which required I attend 5 days of training before I started. He was a volunteer with the charity, also doing the training. I thought he was good looking, but also decided he seemed like the type to have a girlfriend. He didn't as it happened. We became friends, there were 3 of us, The Boy, me and a smiley American girl, whom I thought he fancied. He didn't, though I didn't know that until the training had ended.
We got the bus home together that last evening. He asked if I wanted to come to the supermarket with him. I said ok, it was the sort of thing I'd do with any of my friends. He then invited me back to hang out at his place. (I have to point out here that most of my friends, regardless of sexual preference, are male, I spend a lot of time hanging out in guys' houses and flats.) I said sure, why not. I wasn't in any particular hurry.
We ordered pizza, and watched TV and hung out. Then he hugged me, he tells me now it was because I looked sad. Then he kissed me. This is, apparently, because I seemed disappointed that the hug was all I'd got (Remember I thought he fancied our American friend). We kissed for a while. I walked home with a huge smile on my face.
We had coffee a few days later and have been driving each other nuts ever since. I love him. He makes me furious sometimes, he also makes me ridiculously happy. Luckily he loves me too.
(Sorry if this is a bit mushy. It's Valentine's Day tomorrow and while I reject the commercialised nature of it all, I also like making people laugh at how dense I was when we met.)