Son, the story of how I met your father is a very mundane one, yet it defines our lives. On a crisp September evening in Toronto, a Biology major and a Computer Science major found themselves surrounded by hundreds of English majors in an elective class they had both been dreading. His eyes were kind. His voice was shaky. He talked me into skipping class and took me for Bubble Tea. I hated the tea, but I loved him. I did then, and I do now. We are worlds apart, and exactly the same. He is my sense of adventure and my strength. I am his voice of reason and the hand on his shoulder. We are stubborn and critical; always challenging each other, always pushing each other a little further and a little higher. We don’t do fancy outings. There are no grand gestures. Just simple acts of love. I pick the tomatoes out of his salad, and he sips my Coke. He tells me I’m being a know-it-all, and I say so are you. We’re so far from perfect. But, so perfect for one another. We thought we had everything, and then we met you. And, then, we knew we had it all.
This post was featured in the Huffington post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/02/14/how-we-met-love-stories_n_4790386.html