Tiny Love Stories: ‘Will You Please Forgive Me?’

Second Time at the Hitching Post

Almost 50 years ago, Sue and I hurriedly married to avoid the embarrassment of being unwed parents in seven months. The ceremony remains a blur but the declaration of “Until death do us part” was unforgettable. Five years and two children later, we divorced. A few months ago, I was given the prognosis of one to two years of life. When I shared the news with Sue, she offered to care for me. Last month, we remarried. Our daughter was our witness as we declared once again: “Until death do us part.” Rodney Santos

Running the Reservoir Alone

Two suburban boys fell in love over the spring. I chose a college in the city to stay with him and, after an ultimatum, he moved into a cramped apartment to stay with me. Most nights, we would log a mile around the Central Park reservoir together, hearing the rocks shuffle underneath our shoes. Happy only through this constant movement, we found the stillness of our small apartment too difficult. I run the reservoir alone now, hoping to hear the shuffling of rocks underneath his shoes as he catches up to my breathless body. — Jared Hirsch

He Won’t Stop Getting Down on One Knee

We’ve been married for five years and have two children. We rarely argue, but if we get into an argument in public — walking down the street or in a restaurant — Paul will drop to one knee, take my hand in his, look up at me lovingly and ask, “Will you please forgive me?” Cars begin honking, people stare and the waitress starts ordering a dessert on the house, to my absolute horror. Reminded why I said yes to him in the first place, I say yes again. — Lauren Gray

I Got My Father-in-Law in the Divorce

I met my new boyfriend’s father at their family holiday party; we sat in a corner, gabbing intensely. My boyfriend wondered what we were talking about. Hugging his father goodbye, I thought, “I’m going to marry your son.” I did. When he retired, we met occasionally for breakfast; now it’s monthly. I told him when I was conflicted about my marriage. He held my hand. As we separated two years ago, my ex said, “Don’t worry, I would never come between you and my dad.” “You misunderstand,” I said. “You can’t. I get Norman in the divorce. You get visitation.”— Alia Covel

One Small Step for Man, One Giant Leap for Us

If not for the moon landing, romance might have passed us by. It’s possible that I, the Scottish cook in the tenement kitchen in Glasgow, would have never met Peter, the American divinity student volunteering there that summer. Serving soup on July 20, 1969, the day Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, I declared the mission a waste of resources. Peter countered that it was a momentous achievement. Arguing passionately, we found attraction amid disagreement. Fifty years on, we still disagree about space exploration, but we celebrate that auspicious day when the moon brought us into the same orbit. — Jenny Fleming-Ives

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