In case you're new here, read part 1 before continuing.

After settling into our new seating arrangements, I finally introduced myself. Our conversation from the wrong row continued in the right row, and we chatted through the take-off, beverage service, and the duration of our flight to Chicago.

We both loved reading and talked about our favorite books and authors. I mentioned a series written by Ralph Moody about his life growing up in Colorado and Massachusetts that I loved. He just happened to have a copy of a book by Ralph Moody in his bag. Cue the music.

We talked about our faith and growing up in the church. We shared about adventures we'd taken, favorite birthday memories, and so many other things along the way.

As we began our descent into Chicago, I took a deep breath and held it. Thoughts were racing through my head, and I wondered if this spark I felt was mutual. How was this flight going to end? Should I ask for his number? Amid these questions, he bumped my elbow gently and told me to take a breath, that everything would be ok. And then he asked if I had a pen while we pulled out his wallet.

Adding his name and number to the back of the card, he handed it over with instructions to NOT call Bob Utter. (Bless you, Bob Utter, for providing the card, pretty sure I have it tucked away safely somewhere).

We left the plane together and went to find our connecting gates. With two hours to kill and gates that were miles apart, we wandered and visited and told more stories. Stories of moving and careers, heartbreak, and healing. Just before dashing off to catch our flights, we gave each other a hug and parted ways.

I called my sister as I headed off to tell her I'd met that dark-haired, curly-headed guy with a beard and glasses she'd mentioned last week. I wasn't sure if I'd ever talk to him again, but we'd enjoyed the travel time together.

The following day I received a message via Facebook from Nate, and after a few pleasantries, we scheduled a phone date. Did you ever talk to a crush on the phone when you were in Junior High? Was it awkward? Oh man, that was the most uncomfortable phone date of my life. It was hard to recreate the physical chemistry we experienced in person over the phone, and we'd exhausted most of the more natural topics during our long travel day together. When it was over, I thought I may never hear from him again and wasn't too worried about it. I had a great story to tell and figured it was more practice talking with strangers and testing out the spark.

A few text messages led to more text messages, and by the end of a week, we were back on the phone. I was working late on a wedding in my studio in Boston while he traveled back to Wyoming, and we kept each other company. Three days, eight hours on the phone and so many things said, we realized this was more than just an interest in friendship and agreed to see where it would go - with all 2,142 miles between us.

Click here for Part 2. <3

This story actually begins a week before Christmas, 2013. I was packing for my holiday trip to visit family, and my sister asked on the phone: "so what's your line?". Puzzled, I asked her what she meant and her reply: you know, when that cute guy sits next to you on the airplane. If conversation hasn't already started by the time the beverage service begins, you can ask him, "are you drinking a jack and coke or a beer? I'm buying".

The next evening while waiting at the airport, she texted if there were any cute guys and told me to look out for one with curly dark hair; he'd probably have glasses and a beard. No one met that description, and I didn't have a chance to use my new line on the airplane (hello twitching college student who wouldn't make eye contact).

After a week with family, soaking up snuggles with my niece and nephew, good food, time with friends, and late-night chats with my sister, it was time to go back to Boston. On my last evening, I asked if she thought I'd get to experience real love. If I'd have the chance for a family of mine own. She responded with, "Myca, you could be married by this time next year!" A thousand questions about who and when and how and where rolled off my tongue, and we both laughed. A laugh full of hope and expectation and wondering what would happen next.

Little did I know how my life would change just nine hours later.

Early the next morning, I found myself racing through terminal B in Denver International Airport, fearing I would be late boarding my flight back to Boston (via Chicago). When I realized there was just enough time to grab a coffee and breakfast to go, I took a sharp u-turn without looking and ran smack into the chest of a tall, bearded, baseball hat-wearing man with glasses and nearly fell from impact. Thankfully, he caught me and, after apologizing profusely for my carelessness, was on my way in search of breakfast.

I arrived back at the gate, hot coffee and muffin in hand, and realized the man who'd caught me just moments before was waiting for the same flight - cue the overwhelming embarrassment. I boarded first and soon settled into my window seat. When he came down the aisle a while later, we made eye contact - I smiled, he said "Good Morning" and then took the seat next to me. We started chatting about the early morning, watching the sunrise, where we were coming from and headed to that day. It was a promising start.

Before getting a chance to exchange names, a couple came down the aisle and, with confusion, interrupted and asked if he was in the wrong seat. After checking the ticket, they discovered his assigned seat was one row ahead and, with hesitation and regret, he moved.

At this point, I realize there's potential for something exciting, and I'm trying to decide, should I ask this guy to get coffee with me in Chicago? Am I that girl? Do I want to be that girl? Is there anything to write on besides a barf bag??? While weighing my options and realizing he's captive until we land in Chicago, he stands up, looks me in the eye, and says, "I was enjoying our conversation, and I'm not ready for it to be over. If I can get everyone else to move, will you come sit next to me?"

Without hesitation, I agree and hand him my coffee so I can gather my belongings while he helps shuffle three other passengers. A new seat, an introduction, and miraculously, the start of a new love story.

Six years ago today, on an early and cold Saturday morning in December, I met the man who would win my heart over long phone calls, thousands of text messages, and the perfectly timed box of chocolates.

Curious how the rest of the story goes? Part two is here.

A Whirly Girl Love Story, Part 2

A Whirly Girl Love Story, Part 1