I Want It That Way

AFTER

There’s always a meet-cute, right?

The girl trips and the boy catches her, they’re stuck together on an elevator, or she leaves her phone behind in a bar and he returns it to her. Later, when people ask the inevitable question, “How did you meet?” the story unspools with the woman telling part of it and the man finishing, or vice versa, while everyone admires them for staying together. I don’t have a story like that, or at least, I have a story, but it’s mine alone, and there’s nobody finishing my sentences.

I want it that way.

Right?