He had asked, “‘When are you going out with me?’ and my response was, “Who said I was!”

With that I headed home but stole a glance — there he was, smiling that smile at me. I felt his eyes on me until I was surely out of his sight.

Thinking I was going crazy, I smiled all the way home. It was strange that I hadn’t noticed him before — but I noticed him now. Soon, I was able to recognize his car and his coworkers. Suddenly, he seemed to be everywhere.

Thoughts of him filled my mind. I’d never known anyone so sure of himself, but there was a strong attraction to him that couldn’t be denied.

A few days later, we met again. He wasn’t so cocky, and I wasn’t so apprehensive. I actually flirted a bit. We began with casual conversations about our families, etc. He had received his call from Uncle Sam but wasn’t excited about the prospect of military life. The only way out of it was to be married with a pregnant wife.

I asked if that was his plan. He said that would be okay if it happened but he wasn’t going to bite the dust just to stay out of the Army. That relaxed me and we continued to converse.

Then he wanted to know how old I was. “How old do I look?”

“You look about 20 or so, but I know you’re still in school so I’d say 18.”

“Close enough,” I lied.

He wanted to take me out, but my mother would never allow it. And if she discovered he was 23 it was definitely a no.

“Don’t tell her how old I am. Just ask her if she will let you go to a movie Saturday night.”

After days of exhausting my resources and persuasion, she finally succumbed with her permission, if not her blessing.

The movie we saw wasn’t memorable and it was a very quiet evening. Introverted and very shy, when he drove me home and parked the car, I just sat there. We looked at each other. I was unbelievably comfortable in his presence. However, he was not.

He said, “Those blue eyes can see right through me. You can look right into my soul.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how.

He walked me to the door and, ever so gently, took my face in his hands and kissed me briefly, but oh so tenderly.

The following week, I sat on the curb engrossed in a book when he pulled up. My heart skipped a beat, but I didn’t stir. He came and sat down beside me, asking if I had plans for tomorrow night. I did, but he talked me into breaking my date.

We went out every Saturday night for two months, each date ending like the first, with a single, tender kiss.

I didn’t see him the following weekend, and then the next. Wondering what I did wrong puzzled me.

A few days later he dropped by and asked if I wanted to go for a ride. We drove around without speaking for a while. He stopped the car across the street from my home, turned off the engine and gazed deep into my eyes. I expected him to say, “goodbye.”

Finally, he said, “I leave in two months for boot camp.”

My heart sank.

“I wasn’t going to come back,” he confessed.

“Why did you?”

“Because I’ve fallen in love with you, and I can’t help it. I told Ma the day I met you that I had found the girl I intend to marry.”

My heart stopped, I’m sure of it. This was not expected.

He continued, “I wasn’t ever coming back, but I realize that I’m in love with you and I don’t ever want to lose you. I’m ready to settle down and get married, if you’ll have me. Will you wait for me?”

My head swam as he walked me to the door, pledging his eternal devotion. I didn’t sleep at all, keeping this to myself for days.

We continued to date and get better acquainted. Two weeks later, he gave me a diamond engagement ring. I hid it for days, wearing it only when we were alone; then, together, we approached my parents.

He gallantly asked for my hand in marriage. My mother reluctantly consented; Daddy was a pushover.

He left for the service and I waited, but our whirlwind romance didn’t end there. We were married the next year at Christmastime of my senior year.

Those strong hands guided and steered me through trials and tears and that smile warmed and comforted me for 58 years.

Of all my regrets, talking to strangers — especially this one — has never been among them.