January 23, 2019

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Tiny Love Stories: ‘Don’t Message Me if You Can’t Handle a Real Woman’

Tiny Love Stories: ‘Don’t Message Me if You Can’t Handle a Real Woman’
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I wanted a date for New Year’s Eve, so I posted on a dating forum. In my bio, I said I’m a big lady so don’t message me if you can’t handle a real woman. Of the people who replied, one said, “I’m willing to go on a diet with you.” We met in November, dated in December and had our New Year’s date. Four years later, on the eve of the new millennium, we got married. After 18 years together, we are both still dieting but happily in love. — Jane Sattler


“I don’t really know what I’m trying to say,” he said. “But I thought of you when I thought a missile was coming.” He had been in Hawaii, texting me, during last January’s false ballistic missile alert. Post-scare, I remember telling my sister about the stressful ordeal. Incredulous, she chided, “Neither of you confessed your undying love? That tells you everything about the state of your ‘relationship.’” Yes, we’ve never said, “I love you.” But he did think of me when he thought a missile was coming. — Gabriella Etoniru


We moved to New Jersey from Ohio on Jan. 1. A year later, we still had no friends, no invitations for New Year’s Eve. That afternoon, Eli barreled down the stairs to announce that we were having a party. “With who?” I asked. “With each other,” he said. I wore sequins. We danced, played Jenga, wrote predictions and sealed them in an envelope. We left a note in the neighbor’s mailbox saying we liked their Christmas lights. We drank champagne, threw a ball back and forth 200 times, talked with British accents, and, at midnight, we kissed. — Monique Bernstein


For Christmas, I gave him an expensive chef’s knife. It was better than mine, even though I am the more enthusiastic cook. Right after New Year’s, standing in his beige, Burbank living room, he broke up with me without explanation. As I cried and screamed, I thought about the knife in the next room and considered retrieving it. He didn’t deserve that knife. I also knew, in that moment, rushing for a knife could be alarming in a get-you-arrested kind of way. So I didn’t get it. But I still think about that damn knife every day. — Shannon Latimer


We’re supposed to open the jar on New Year’s Day, hung over in our pajamas, reading the little notes of gratitude we had written to each other throughout the year. But I haven’t been able to wait. Every time I saw him pause during a happy evening to write down a memory in his delicate script, I unscrewed the jar, pulled out the Post-it (despite his halfhearted protest) and smiled as I read his words: gratitude for our health, our home, our family, our dog, our friendship and love. Why wait to remind ourselves how good life is together? — Colleen Goodhue



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