I’ve had boyfriends, long term relationships, have been married, and even engaged in a period of promiscuity when I was 18 and 19, but I don’t think I ever actually “dated” anyone.
I’d meet someone, start hanging out with them and just wouldn’t stop.
Farah lived in Malaysia and he lived in Orlando; meeting in person was an insurmountable barrier separated by 10,000 miles, but that didn't stop them from talking about it all the time.
She was 34, the oldest woman with whom Randy, then 26, had formed a bond.
To be completely honest, I very likely do not understand traditional dating mores well enough to use them in my own life, even with lots of coaching and practice.
I mean I get them in an abstract sort of way, but have no functional use for them in my life.
Logistics could be worked out later; for now, Randy just wanted her to come.
She was plump and charismatic, a safety controller for a Malaysian airline. his time—at first he'd be startled from sleep but was soon enough waiting expectantly by his computer for the ring—and they would talk for hours on Skype about everything: theme parks, Asian cuisine, sports, and romance.
Sometimes they would quarrel over petty jealousies.
Like my brother, she had distinct quirks, repeating odd phrases in rhythm like a metronome.
She was the only girl who seemed to fall in love with him instantly—the only person in the world who cared to understand him.