Abby + Jonathan
I saw the Missed Connection section and decided to look on the off chance that the cute boy had written something. He had. I responded.
Jonathan was on his usual F train home from work in the city. I was working as a nanny, and had just popped into Manhattan for the day to visit my boss — whose daughter I babysat for. I got on the train at the West 4th station and locked eyes with a hot man. However, I soon realized I needed to somehow tell him that the six-month-old strapped to my chest wasn’t mine. I started a loud conversation with the woman next to me about being a Brooklyn nanny—making sure to shout the word NANNY multiple times. He got off the train in Park Slope and I thought that was the end.
Later that evening Jonathan wrote on Craigslist Missed Connections section about the mysterious nanny on the train. Meanwhile, I was looking for apartments on Craigslist. I saw the Missed Connection section and decided to look on the off chance that the cute boy had written something. He had. I responded.
It took us six weeks of emailing until we finally met in person. It was the holiday’s and I was in the process of moving. My mom also thought he was going to murder me because we met on Craigslist. Also, he was nine years older.
On our first date we went to a small bar in Park Slope. We stayed until the bar closed, talking. After this night, I changed his name in my phone from "Train Man" to "Jonathan". One evening, we had just consumed a huge Seamless order and were watching Louie and he leaned over and said: "I'm pretty much in love with you.” I quickly said, “I love you, too.” But then I got worried because he had used the phrase “pretty much”. Was he just “pretty much” in love or was he actually in love? And did I mess up and assume the wrong thing when I said “love you too”? I needed clarification. I began rambling. “You just said you love me, right? Not just pretty much in love with me? Or is it the same thing?” I’m not sure how long I talked until he interrupted me. “Relax. I love you.”
We got married at a farm in Western Massachusetts. Our officiant (who was Jonathan’s best friend) calculated the likelihood of us meeting on the train—given the number of cars, trains a day, and the infrequency I was going to Manhattan at the time. The chance of us both being there at that moment were 1 in 1,378,265,625.