The Crazy Story of How I Met My Boyfriend

The Crazy Story of How I Met My Boyfriend

By selina ,

It all started with a spilled coffee.

Not mine. His.

Right on my laptop. in a crowded coffee house. I was mid-email. He was mid-apology.

I was furious. He was flustered.

He stated, "I'll pay for the damage." “I just bought this thing,” I replied.

An awkward silence ensues. He offered napkins. I needed therapy.

And yet… he smiled. I rolled my eyes.

But something clicked.

Sadly, not my laptop. That was fried.

He insisted on buying me a new one.

I thought he was bluffing.

He wasn’t.

Next day, he showed up. Brand-new laptop in hand.

“You're serious?” I asked.

“Very,” he said.

I was shocked. Suspicious. Intrigued.

Who does that?

Apparently, Ethan does.

That was his name. Ethan.

And that was how it began.

We started texting.

Then talking.

Then laughing.

One coffee turned into three.

Then a brunch.

Then late-night walks.

Our first “real” date?

A bookstore, of all places.

We both reached for the same book.

Yes, I repeat. Another coincidence.

Or fate?

“You read Murakami?” I asked.

He jokingly stated, "Only when I'm trying to impress someone." I laughed way too loud.

We read half the book together.

On a park bench.

Eating ice cream. This December. It was illogical. But it felt right.

Then it started to rain. Because of course it did.

We did not flee. We stood there.

Drenched. Smiling.

He kissed me. Just once.

It was enough.

The next few weeks were a blur.

Film marathons. Stupid dares.

Tacos at midnight.

He made playlists. I made pancakes.

The kitchen was where we danced. We sang badly in the car.

One night, he showed me the receipt.

for the computer. “Just wanted you to know,” he said.

“That I wasn’t trying to impress you. Just fix my mistake.”

I kept that receipt.

Still have it.

One day, I was having a meltdown.

Bad work call. Family drama. The works.

He showed up.

No questions.

Just hugs and Hot Cheetos.

He didn’t try to fix it.

He just sat with me.

And that’s when I knew.

This guy was different.

No grand gestures. Just real ones.

Fast forward.

A year later.

He got engaged. on the ring box was a tiny coffee bean. “Just a reminder,” he said.

“Even the messiest starts can lead to beautiful stories.”

I cried.

He was close to dropping the ring. Of course he did.

We laughed. A lot.

And now?

We’re planning a wedding.

And still arguing about coffee.

He likes cold brew. I like it hot.

He is sloppy. I’m organized.

He’s jazz. I’m 90s pop.

But somehow, we work.

Every time I look at him, I remember—

That chaotic morning.

That broken laptop.

That perfect mess.

Sometimes, love doesn’t knock politely.

Sometimes, it spills coffee on your brand-new MacBook.

And sometimes, that’s exactly how it's meant to happen.

So here’s to the accidents.

To awkward moments.

To surprise endings.

And to the crazy, wonderful story of how I met my boyfriend.

Now, every time we walk past that café, we stop and laugh.

He still points to the exact table.

“Right there,” he says, “where I ruined your day… and started the best part of mine.”

I roll my eyes, but I smile every time.

Because life’s funny like that.

You plan everything—and then the universe tosses coffee in your lap.

Literally.

But I wouldn’t change a thing.

Not the mess. Not the malfunction.

Because that moment gave me him.

And somehow, the worst first impression became the beginning of forever.

Love, it turns out, is one wild plot twist.