And a story about making your home a new home, together:
After we moved from Hong Kong, his home, to San Francisco, my home, Daniel drifts uneasily. The buildings aren’t tall enough; the Muni isn’t fast enough; the Chinese food isn’t Chinese enough. “There’s better char siu here than in any other Western city,” I object, as he blanches at my restaurant suggestions. Acceptance builds slowly: first at a hole-in-the-wall in Chinatown, followed by a space-warp into Kowloon at a Cantonese cafe in Sunset. “This place is really authentic,” he beams over satay beef macaroni soup and French toast. Even the rain outside feels like an authentic Pearl River Delta deluge.
— Michael Gold, 35, San Francisco
A tale about meeting a stranger at the happiest place on earth:
Andrew and I met at a Disneyland Annual Passholders’ Meet-up, outside the Jungle Cruise. Neither of us were looking to date anyone, just to make friends. We were lined up by chance to sit side-by-side on Space Mountain that day. Our lives have been exciting ever since. We’ve weathered excellent days and health hardships over our many years together now, and we love each other more than ever. Although we don’t have Disneyland Annual Passes anymore, Disneyland will always hold a special place in our hearts, because it brought two unlikely strangers together, first as friends, then into love.
— Claire Modie, 49, Manhattan Beach
And finally, a love story, told from both sides, about reconnecting in an unexpected place:
I met Jea as a freshman at Stanford. I thought she was cute, but lacked the moxie to ask her out. Then she started dating some other guy. A decade later, we were doctors-in-training at U.C. Davis. I was at the clinic when I randomly bumped into her. She was there as a patient, nervous that she might have thyroid cancer. We made awkward small talk before the nurse ushered her away. My moxie consisted of messaging her on Facebook. Fortunately, she returned my message. Even more fortunately, the thyroid ultrasound was negative. We’ve been married for four years.
— Charles Feng, 37, Sunnyvale
In a clinic at U.C. Davis in Sacramento, I thought I would be diagnosed with thyroid cancer. He was there signing paperwork for his patient. He immediately recognized me, saying, “Remember me from Stanford?” I couldn’t recall what classes we might have taken together 10 years earlier. I don’t remember my response — perhaps just an icy stare? Turns out, I did not have cancer. Before I could write an email apologizing for my curtness, a message on Facebook asked me to dinner. Two years later, we were married at Stanford, and we’re forever grateful to Mark Zuckerberg.
— Jea-Hyoun Kim, 37, Sunnyvale