Happy Day After Valentine’s Day! This is the day I head over to CVS on my lunch break, scoop up the non-Conversation-Hearts candy on clearance, and adopt the stuffed animals that didn’t find a home this year. I know V-Day is a sort of meh, and that we shouldn’t spend our time and money celebrating such a commercialized holiday (down with capitalism!), but I think it’s still kind of fun to dedicate a day to love—whether it be friend love, self-love, or relationship love. Today, I am dedicating this to the latter, and will tell you a story not many people have heard before.

People ask me all the time about how my dude and I met. I usually say at our campus job at USC, where we drove drunk students to parties, and international students to their homes 2 miles away from school because they didn’t know any better to not live where there are no street lights. But the truth is, it’s much more nuanced than that, and a few coincidences had to be strung together to make us happen.

We met in Fall 2011, but were not on each other’s radars at all. Like, at all. For instance, I once got a concussion that left me with poor short-term memory and nasty headaches, but I went to work anyway, and he told supervisors I should probably go home and not be responsible for peoples’ safety—but he doesn’t remember ever doing that.

In Spring 2013, I became fast friends with a girl because we were both scholarship recipients, Asian-American, and from the San Gabriel Valley. Months later, I walked into a large class, and that same friend called me over and told me to sit with her, as I was trying to get settled in the dark corner by myself. My dude just happened to be sitting with the girl’s group of friends (along with his ex, who tried to ruin my life on multiple occasions, but that’s a different story), and from then on, we were forced to acknowledge each other every Thursday night in USC’s Norris Cinema Theatre from 6 to 10pm.

After chatting during class and at work for weeks (in part, thanks to this event), he invited himself over to my apartment, where I was in my Jonas Brothers: Burning Up Tour t-shirt, getting ready to watch “Helvetica”—the documentary about fonts. He said he’d be over at 3am, after he got off work. Tooootal “Netflix and Chill” move, which I’m now rolling my eyes over, but at the time, I agreed.

He made his way over, but we never got to watch the documentary, because we were busy talking until the sun came up, which is when we left to pick up breakfast burritos at 23rd Street Café (a gem!). We then came back to my apartment, but didn’t eat because I saw that my favorite episode of Supernatural was playing on TNT. (It was the season 5 finale where Sam jumps into the devil hole and Castiel resurrects Bobby, FYI.) I started dozing off, and my dude told me I should probably just go to sleep. So, I went in my room, knocked out without saying anything, and woke up alone hours later, with my breakfast burrito safely tucked away in the fridge. The rest is history! And burritos. Except that time we both went gluten-free—it was the inside of burritos only.

I’m sure we all have a delightfully quirky story about some kind of love, and I’m dying to hear yours, so share yours in a comment below!