How did your parents meet?

My mother noticed one day a young man was staying at his sister's house across the street. She was interested and rode her bike back and forth until he noticed her. Long story short, he had a girlfriend but she lured him and got pregnant with me.

My mother was teaching 7th grade, my father was a dashing pubescent Samoan. The rest is history.

Back in the 60s, my dad was employed in a big city pizza place as the youngest employee who also had to deliver them at times.

He met my mom at one such delivery & she was impressed by something of his (not smart, not wealthy or even average income earner & not a looker).

They had my oldest sibling in the big city & then moved about an hr. away & had the rest of their brood (including me) in a right wing shithole.

The marriage lasted over 20 years. He was a Hillary supporter before he croaked & she is still a Trumper. The rest is history.

Apparently they worked at the same bank and one day my mother had forgotten her lunch money so my father bought her lunch. Pretty random but I suppose a lot of people meet in the work place.

They were married in 1960 and remained together until my mother died of lung cancer in October 2019.

My mom was a Madame Claude girl in Paris. My dad was her American client. They took things past “working” hours, ended up falling in love, and got married. This was all revealed decades later in a very dramatic family scandale of epic proportions.

My future uncle and my future father worked in the same place. Uncle hooked up Mom and Dad. The rest is history.

To this day, my father despises his BIL.

High school sweethearts.

My parents met in elementary school. My mother’s brother was a childhood friend of my father. Families moved but they reconnected in late high school.

They met cute. My dad was serving a twenty year sentence for manslaughter. Of course he claimed the guy was already dead. At some point Pelican Bay State Prison, where he was incarcerated, called for submissions of inmates' poetry, which my mother, who was working nearby in a nail salon, read in the prison newsletter, the only free newspaper in Crescent City California, a backwater of of epic proportions.

She fell in love with the man who who could write with such sensitivity and married him when he got parole. I was born shortly after but dad took off the minute he smelled a dirty diaper, so I have no memory of him...except his poetry of course, which mother read to me as a small child. As I grew into adolescence, I realized the 'poems' were filthy limericks.

In the other thread.