I'm visiting a married couple in the Phoenix suburbs. There's a pull-out back, snacks on the

counter, and a happy-to-wally card on the fridge. And they're telling me their meet-cute

story, how they met 17 years ago.

I was a freshman in college, and the proper term is first-year student now. We don't use

those problematic terms like freshman and sophomore.

I got it. That makes sense.

I was a first-year student in college, and I walked into a survey class, and there were

two professors, and one of them was the most charismatic person I have ever encountered

in my life.

For this couple, their meet-cute was more like a meet-complicated. Nisha was an all-away

outter Indian parents, who still thought liking girls was a phase, and Jill was already

seen someone. And then there was this big age gap between student and teacher.

She's 19, I'm 39 at the time, and I was just, I was nauseous for weeks.

All of Jill's friends thought this was her early midlife crisis. Nisha called her parents

to let them know she'd likely be sharing her life with the woman.

It was very clear that this was to be a relationship of some destiny. I mean, I used that word

sort of with a wink, but it was clear, and to walk away from it felt even more wrong.

Nisha and Jill spent a lot of time talking about everything that made their situation

fraught. The power dynamics involved, university policy, how the younger person and a student

teach their relationship usually gets hurt the worst.

And even how to make sure that between the long, wonderful dinners and Jill's backyard

off campus, Nisha would still have a college experience.

...