Swedish Love

We ate dinner and talked. All of a sudden. I noticed the moon overhead. It was beautiful. “Look at the moon!” I said to her. My dream rushed back to me. I got chills as I noticed the cobblestones on the ground, and the fake windows with flowerboxes underneath them, creating a scene. I didn’t tell my friend about the dream, but jokingly said, “I’ve got to meet a Swedish boy!”

Five minutes later, two handsome guys came over to our table. They spoke in Swedish, and I smiled and nodded, pretending I could understand. I thought they were asking to take our extra chairs. Suddenly they sat down with us! That never happened to me in the U.S.

My friend said I was American, and they immediately switched to English. They were brothers. The older one, sitting across from me, liked to talk. The one sitting next to me was almost silent, except for offering English words when his talkative brother got stuck. After the conversation lulled, I turned to the quiet guy next to me, and felt an immediate connection. I had this almost-uncontrollable urge to put my hand on his knee. As if I knew him already. His name was Mats.

My friend went home around midnight, but I stayed out with Mats and his brother. I was in a country I barely knew, with two guys I had just met, but I felt very safe. We went to another bar and he bought me a hot chocolate. It was love. Around three a.m. it was time to take the last bus home. They walked me to my stop, and we exchanged numbers.

He called me the next day (significant for all you Swingers movie fans out there) and soon we had the first of many dates to come. Eleven years later, we are still together. Married, with young children, it’s nice to remember the romantic way we met.

Somehow, amid the diaper changes and sleepless nights, we need to connect again like we did that first night we met.

By Kristy Lund