Chicken Soup for the Couple's soul by Jack Canfield

for me. Try "obsessed." But that was from my end. I don't think Lydia was even in love at that point. She kept me at arm's length, waiting to see if I might ripen into an actual human being. But she did go out with me, so she must have been drawn to me a little. Since I had no money, we seldom went out on real dates. We walked along the lakefront a lot. I remember once it snowed, and she took my arm. I never moved my elbow the whole forty minutes we walked, with the flakes whirling down, coating her glove and the sleeve of my jacket. In the spring we often stood beside a lilac bush at school, embracing for ten minutes at a time. By my last weeks on campus, I was preoccupied with getting Lydia into bed or married to me. She rejected both options with adamantine resolve. She had no intention of getting pregnant or wed: she was determined to get her degree. Desperately, I fell back on the ploy soldiers have used for centuries. "You realize you may never see me again. We must have something to carry in our hearts! It may be years, it may be never!" It was a heart-breaking performance, not least because I meant it, but it never dented her resolve. One afternoon we were down in the school basement, silk-screening a set of theater posters. "I got a letter from this boy I knew in high school," Lydia said. "He's coming to town for a few days. Pete." "Pete?" "I thought I might see him. He's going in the Navy." "The Navy?" "We might have dinner... with other people, of course. At that p