How did you meet?

Bethany was comfortable in being single. The longstanding obsession she had had with falling in love, relationships, loneliness and marriage had finally quieted after she completed Iyanla Vanzant’s In the Meantime in her mid-20s; she had finally realized with a quiet peace and not a bitter, heartbreaking acceptance that she might never get married - and that was okay. In 2019 she was more focused on the other important facets of her life - would she be a middle-aged woman still living with her parents? Had graduate school been one of the worst, most financially draining decisions of her life? How difficult would a career change be for a compulsive worrier like her? Why was it so hard to attain a fulfilling, full-time career?

It was the beginning of summer when she was hired to be a part-time librarian at Burlington County College. She was hesitant to accept it, but knew she needed the money, even if the commute from Vineland would paradoxically drain what little money she was making. After a few months the library director made it clear that she was being considered for a full time position. She accepted this, too, with reluctance - but also relief; finally, after seven months of irregular work she had a job that offered a pension and that coveted carrot-at-the-end-of-the-stick: health insurance. The work could be somewhat dull and repetitive, but the library was housed in a bright and modern building with the added bonus of an attractive man who worked in the tutoring department down the hall who would walk past the circulation desk a few times a day.

James’ completed coursework in graduate level mathematics had provided one consistency in adulthood - tutoring. After years of tutoring at Burlington County College (officially monikered as RCBC back in 2015) James was offered a full-time position to run the RCBC tutoring center, and eventually the testing center, and he, too, had accepted his loneliness as another unchangeable facet of life, not unlike death or taxes.

Bethany found herself attending one of the many campus events that mark a community college’s calendar (during her time working at RCBC there would be countless emails promoting symposiums, fundraisers, ceremonies, and all sorts of assemblies that offered some combination of free food, beverages, and opportunities for socializing) and for the first time they had occasion to speak and after two months of surreptitiously watching each other they finally learned each other’s names.

He was too jaded in love to actually entertain the concept that their first date was a first date. She’s a new friend, he thought simply. Nothing more. It was August 15th - her mother’s birthday. Bethany had made plans with her to celebrate over the weekend. She and James agreed to meet up after work at Pandora’s Diner - his suggestion. She hid her mild disappointment. Diners aren’t where people go on first dates, she thought. His feelings towards me are obviously platonic. They enjoyed a meal and a lengthy conversation. When the check came he paid and her heart smacked against her chest in jolting, ecstatic pumps: maybe this was a date.

In the parking lot, he opened his arms for a hug. She gladly accepted, kissing his cheek in a gesture that she hoped came off as affectionate but not overly so. He did not give a kiss in turn, but she remembered the smile that stretched across his lips - it was almost like he was embarrassed at the joy his face gave away. She thought about it the entire drive home, savoring the feel of his skin, giddy at the simple happiness this evening had provided. The next date would not be so ambiguous, and neither would the date after that. In the weeks to come they would discuss all manner of things, their family, their childhoods, friends, work, college, literature, television, where they had been in the past and where they saw themselves in the future. They sat on a bench in Pennington Park, enjoying the atmosphere of an early autumn day. Bethany mentioned she thought anyone who married in this day and age before 25 years old was obviously suffering from some kind of psychosis; personally, she couldn’t see herself marrying before the age of 30.

At that, James smiled simply. “That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

They were amazed at how easy it was to be together. For her, past romantic endeavors had been constantly marred by tears, anger, and frustration, as well as the soul-crushing certainty that no couple was as truly happy or serene as they made themselves out to be. Dating and relationships were a choreographed dance and that she had to memorize while blindfolded. When am I going to mess this up? Bethany would ask herself. Or, when was she going to see a hidden side that dusted away this infatuation that was surely disguising itself as love. She is going to realize she’s too good for me, he similarly fretted.

They had been together for seven months and March of 2020 introduced a threat to life as the world knew it. Social distancing from each other seemed like an insurmountable idea, so James came to live with her in her apartment in Stratford. Here’s where our happiness will surely end, she thought. Every day Bethany was confronted with online thinkpieces and social media memes about couples’ relationships destroyed by the toll of ceaseless, 24/7 cohabitation with no breaks from the outside world except those provided by a screen. There’s no way we won’t fall victim as well. But as the weeks and months went by the other shoe didn’t drop; in fact, their constant companionship was the sole highlight of this period of time.

In the fall of 2022 Bethany picked an engagement ring. Several months later, he would formally present it to her, at the top of Bowman’s Hill Tower in Washington Crossing. The tower was a tourist attraction that provided a clear, expansive view of the surrounding town - the lookout tower a platform no bigger than a 10 by 10 foot square. There was a family already present when they arrived at the top - a mother, father, young daughter, and grandfather. If they had been privy to James’ intimate question they would have likely thought it touching, offered congratulations and maybe to take a photo of their special moment. But James wanted it to be private, and for that Bethany was grateful. She treasured the moment she first glimpsed the beautiful alexandrite stone reflecting in the springtime sun, his quiet, sweet voice asking, “Will you marry me?”

After their engagement was announced, people were excited, eager to know the details of his proposal. Bethany didn’t understand the fuss. She was happy to be his fiance, enamored with the ring, and excited to start planning their future together, certainly, but the engagement hadn’t been an earth-shattering, life-changing cinematic moment the way she had been taught to think of engagements as. It was a big question, but to them it seemed so simple. David Levithan said that bad first dates are short stories. Good first dates are more than short stories. They are first chapters. Six years their first chapter started, and it is with great hope and faith that their story never ends.