The moment I met Sam, I had two thoughts:
1. He looks like Jude Law.
2. I'm going to marry him.
Now, this was not an especially novel thought for me, because at the time I was 18, a freshman in college, and in hot pursuit of my MRS degree. So essentially, every other man I met was the man I was going to marry; I was ready to get the show on the road.
He had come over to study Calculus with my roommate, Ellen. A sweet girl, but something of a tease; she regularly drunkenly brought home various frat boys and fell asleep in her bed with them. They would leave several hours later, frustrated and vowing never to come back. Needless to say, I knew that even if Sam was interested in Ellen, he would be sorely disappointed in her usual repetoire: pulling a man in, then acting completely uninterested until she drove him away.
He and I chatted for a few moments, and I was all too aware of the fact that I hadn't showered in several days [it was freshman year!], was wearing no makeup and my nerd glasses, and an outfit that didn't match. Ellen informed me they were going to go get some food, blatantly not inviting me. I smiled and waved goodbye, waited several seconds, and sent her a text:
I WANT THAT.
And then, perhaps a little too confident in the fact that she had, in her own strange way, claimed Sam for herself, Ellen made her fatal mistake.
She showed him the text.
The game was on.