Before we were married, my wife, Marcia, and I would send notes to each other through our college mail-delivery system. The notes were probably similar to most letters exchanged between two dewy-eyed people in a blossoming relationship, but ours had a twist: We wrote them on whatever unconventional material we could find lying around. Coffee filters, old folders, cardboard cut from a pizza box — we discovered that the nice folks in the mailroom would deliver just about anything if we used the correct name and box number. So it became a little game. One day, I wrote a letter on the bottom of a Frisbee, spiraling my romantic ramblings in black marker from the outer rim toward the middle. I remember hoping Marcia would be delighted at the note, that she would sigh, hug the disc tightly and vow to never — if you’ll pardon the pun — throw it away.
We continued the writing game after we graduated, exploiting the patience of postal workers in the United States and then in China, where we both taught English for a year. When we married, the letters fizzled. The relationship had been secured, and the fun little things that we did earlier seemed impractical and somewhat unnecessary. From a guy’s perspective — or at least from this guy’s perspective — the reasoning might sound like this: I already won the girl. Why keep up the chase?
[Read the rest of the article at Thriving Family.]