We are hopeless romantics here at XO Café. To celebrate Valentine's Day we held a contest for the most romantic story. The winning couple would be treated to a special dinner for two on Valentine's day. We went through a ton of submissions and chose a story that gave us all goosebumps!! Because there were so many great stories we decided to give the two runner ups prizes as well. Thank you everyone who submitted their story, they were all beautiful! Happy Valentine's Day from all of us at XO Cafe.
In the Fall of 1986 I was walking through Faneuil Hall in Boston on my lunch break when I noticed a gathering of people watching a street performer. My eyes were immedialtely drawn to the sweet face of a beautiful woman on the opposite side, whose body language belied the seasonal temperature. I found myself weaving quickly through the thong of onlookers and then impulsively draping my suit jacket over her. The look on her delicate face told me that I had clearly overstepped my bounds. I apologized awkwardly and turned away. Over the ensuing months I found myself obssessing over this woman and second-guessing my actions. Should I have pressed my luck by starting a conversation with her? Perhaps I could have been more forward? I would never know.
The years passed, and I often looked back to that brief but inforgettable encounter with a wistful smile and more than a few regrets. I eventually married, had children, and settled down to a typical suburban life of Little League games, neighborhood cookouts, and all the trappings of that life. After 15 years, we grew apart and realized that the passion needed to sustain a marriage simply wasn't there, and probably never was. The divorce was amicable, and we parted ways. I drifted aimlessly through my career and the daily minutiae that makes up a quiet life, always with a piece of me inexplicably empty.
One day, a woman entered my office, introduced herself, and began making small talk. We realized very quickly that a rare connection had been made, and we were soon inseparable. Within a few short months I found myself in love for the first time of my life. Gone was the emptiness and the feeling that I was somehow missing a critical part of my life.
Shortly thereafter, she and her sister were talking in the kitchen about making a trip up to Boston. They reminisced about their excursion many years before, and wondered why they didn't return as often as they both would like. Out of nowhere, her sister reminded her of the romantic stranger who offered her his coat on that cold day so long ago, and how she was too shy to speak to him. She teased her for talking about him over the ensuing months, and her inablity to let go of the memory from that brief interlude. Then, her sister asked her if she remembered where they were standing at that time. I finished the sentence for her. I turned to that beautiful woman with the delicate face and the enormity of the moment literally took our breath away: We had found each other.
One year later, we were married at Nobska Light House at sunset, overlooking Vineyard Sound. We rarely talk about it, but we both know that we will never, ever, let each other go this time.
A couple's first Valentine's Day together should be magical and romantic, right? Well, when my boyfriend Eamonn and I celebrated our first Valentine's Day together last year, after about a month of dating, it was a night that exhibited the power of even the newest love.
Upon meeting up with Eamonn for our previously-planned night of dinner and ice-skating (a replica of our first date about a month earlier), I noticed him clutching his side and grimacing in anguish. I asked if he was in pain and he acknowledged that he was, but downplayed this fact, as he was desperate to make our first Valentine's Day perfect. After about a half hour of watching him progressively experience more and more pain however, I was concerned, and begged him to let me take him to a clinic in Providence. I told him that I'd feel much more comfortable with going out after I knew there was nothing really wrong, and he agreed. Once he was seen by the doctor after waiting for about 2 hours (by this point, he was crying out in pain), we were immediately told to take him to Miriam Hospital; his appendix had already ruptured, and was quickly leaking toxins into his abdomen.
By about 10pm Valentine’s Day night, he was wheeled in for what was supposed to be a short 45 minute procedure to remove his appendix. This procedure, which would normally only require a day in the hospital for recovery, turned out to be much more severe than we anticipated. It required 3 HOURS in the operating room and four large incisions to finish! After what seemed like a lifetime in the waiting room, the surgeon finally came out to inform me that everything was ok at 1:30am. What he also told me, however, still shakes me to this day; he said that had I not forced Eamonn to go to the doctor within about an hour of when I had, he would've died that night. While most people get an appendix removed before it ruptures, his had already begun to poison him. He also would have an 8-day stay at the hospital ahead of him, in addition to antibiotics and other medications for the next month to further eliminate the infection the toxins had caused.
The next day, his first in the hospital after surgery, Eamonn told me he loved me for the first time, and that he knew I was his soulmate... and to this day, we both know he was right.
I had just gotten out of the army and met a freind's brother who asked me if I wanted to go to Boston to a club the following night. I had never been and said yes. We went. When we arrived I left my friend and went to the upstairs bar to look around. The bartender was a fellow I had caddied with 8 years before . As I was standing talking to him between two girls who were sitting. I told him I had just gotten out of the army. One of the girls asked a question. I began talking to both of them. At some point thought I should ask one of them to dance. Couldn't flip a coin so "eni, meeni, miino, mo". The girl on my left came up. We spent the rest of the night on the dance floor.
When it was time to leave I looked for my friend and found that somehow he had met the women on my right who was" my choice's" roommate. After getting something to eat I obtained her address and number and said I would call. As we left Boston in the snow flurries the full moon was setting over the Charles river. I wrote her a letter and discovered I had lost the paper with her info on it. Said to myself 'typical, you meet someone you want to see again and you lose the paper.' In regret, I wrote a poem.
I left the morn after we'd met
there came a storm as the moon set
told her I'd call and better yet
in time i'd come, I'd not forget
Now somewhere in the city lies
the paper lost I now despise
for on it is as she is know
and far away it has been blown
all I can do is hope and wait
that someday we may meet by fate.
That week I called the fellow who had taken me to Boston to see if he was going again. He wasn't. I asked my mother if I could borrow her car for the night. It had been overheating so she said don't go too far. I said I wouldn't. I drove to Boston and had to stop 4 times for radiator water. By the grace of God I found the place where we had met. Walked around and didn't see her. Had a drink and repeated my walk through. No luck. Had another drink and repeated my trail. No luck. Said to myself, 1 more time maybe its not meant to be. Made one more walk through and saw her. Walked up to her to try to explain why I had not called. She wasn't very interested in hearing so I pulled out "The Poem". She read it and looked at me.
We have been married 40 years. Never discount the value of an "eni meeni miini mo" or a flip of a coin. God's hands are everywhere. It saved my life. Amen.
