We started unremarkably, with a lot of awkward Heeeeeyyyys back and forth. But it turned into something truly amazing some months later. My dad was in hospice, and Bil (now my husband) was determined to make me laugh for even one second. He got a tattoo to match my avatar — a badly taxidermied sassy bobcat — and made that tattoo his avatar. You just have to see it.

We were married a year later. She’s a Presbyterian minister; I’m “unchurched.” What could go wrong? Yet our core values aligned. Early on, we agreed: Cherish our differences and don’t try to change each other. I imagined meeting a “granola girl.” She imagined meeting a “preacher man.” It turned out just the opposite.

New to dating apps, I put on my profile that I was a witchcraft historian! His response was perfect — I was excited that not only did he have a sense of humor, he also knew (accurate!) esoteric details, and was keen to chat! We met up right away, and he told me about the time he stayed at a satanic murderer’s Airbnb. After I lost my phone (he thought I ghosted him), we finally saw each other again weeks later for a last-minute late-weeknight screening of “Clueless” at the Metrograph and fell in love. And now, we just got engaged!

His best friend has a YouTube channel that I had been following for a while. He would often appear in the videos, and I always thought he was cute and funny. When his profile came up on my Hinge, I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I was very bold when first messaging him because I knew we had very similar humor.

He was a handyman referred to me during the pandemic by a neighbor. I opened the door with unbrushed hair and while wearing pajamas. He seemed during that lonely time to be the prettiest thing I had ever seen, and I wanted to close the door again, so that I could pull myself together. I found thousands of dollars of work for him to do in my house over the next three months. When I ran out of projects and hadn’t seen him for a few weeks, I had no alternative but to ask him out.

I met Zeke on Bumble. Our exchange was brief, quickly moving to texting and setting up our first date. When he responded to my comment “sounds gouda” with the pun “brie you soon,” I was hooked. My ex used to criticize my use of language, complaining that I sounded old-fashioned and corny. Zeke has helped me feel comfortable in my voice again. We’re getting married next April, and I’m eager to spend my life cheesily ever after with someone who melts my heart.

Patrick and I connected on Bumble in 2017, both seeking to brighten a challenging grad-school winter with some fun dates. After a few minutes of texting and never having met, I sarcastically joked that we get a place together in Washington postgraduation, never suspecting that we would do just that, eight months later. Since then he has brought endless light to bumpy job transitions, a dark pandemic and a bold cross-country move to Seattle. He makes boring Monday nights spark. Now we’re bassinet shopping for our best adventure yet, arriving in August.

Reed messaged me on Grindr at the beginning of the semester after he was my student in a lecture. He didn’t attend the smaller discussion groups that I led, so I didn’t know him. His profile was blank except for his height. Flattered, I engaged with him after his message, then we met a month later for a study date. Weeks later, we went on a few formal dates. Months later, we began dating.

I knew I wanted my husband shortly after we met through a college club. My initial wooing strategy of sending riddles and memes over Messenger didn’t yield much. My suggestions of studying together ended in disappointment when he wanted to actually study. Finally, I broke down and confessed my feelings in the most awkward way possible. He responded in kind. It turned out he had a crush on me too but hadn’t realized I was flirting with him. Eight years later, he still “supports” my having made the first move.

We’re both autistic, and he specifically did not know how to initiate conversations, flirty or not. Our first interactions were only memes about the video game Untitled Goose Game. We’ve been living together for three years and will be getting married in May 2025. We still laugh about the goose memes!

We were first-day-of-freshman-year friends, co-presidents of our dorm. Raj: reticent, mysterious, poetically brooding (in the way any lean college boys who don’t talk about themselves appear to the hopeful female gaze). Me: an oversharer with a bad crush who did 75 percent of the texting and always wanted him to read my writing. Frequent 3 a.m. philosophy conversations. My 4 a.m. disclosure: “I like like you!” (He didn’t reciprocate.) Seven years later (after college, work and other relationships), he did.

This is us working out where to meet for our first date in London during Covid. We had our first meal together shivering on the terrace of the restaurant. We quickly formed a bubble and later moved in together. Three years on, lockdown seems so long ago, and we now have a little boy (who, unlike his dad, really likes cucumber).

Our first exchanges happened over text while Jesse was driving across the country. Our texts got longer and longer as we nerded out about obscure music, travel and our work. It wasn’t flirting, exactly, but there was a lot of rapid-fire witty banter, and it felt really exciting. We were both confused about whether this was the start of a romance or a friendship. It still wasn’t clear after we hung out a couple of times in person — were they dates? We didn’t know. Things eventually took a romantic turn, and now we laugh about those early confusing days.

It’s rare to find someone who agrees that soup is not a meal, so I had to reply to his prompt. We met for cheese curds on our first date, and by the second I knew that this relationship would stick. Four years and a pandemic later, we’re married. Our feelings about soup haven’t changed, and whether soup is a meal continues to be a topic of debate with our friends.

Once a year, Josh would come into the store I worked at to shop. We would spend a few hours together, and once he left, life went on and I just knew I would see him the following year. This went on for 8 years. Two years ago we finally exchanged phone numbers. Lighthearted texts turned into deeper conversations and we found ourselves in a texting-only relationship for many months. We opened up to one another in a way that would have been impossible in person.

I went on 100 dates in 100 days just before the pandemic. Postpandemic I went on that many more (in about a year). When I saw Johnson’s profile, I knew immediately he was the person I was looking for. I’m not from his culture, so he didn’t think he was meeting his forever person beforehand, but we met the next day, and it was instantly clear to both of us that the connection was palpable. It was like finding soul family. We’ve since visited eight countries, I’m learning Mandarin and we are very much in love.