My dad was a professor at a university. My mom was a student 14 years younger than him.
I’m not particularly impressed by that story, but it got me born, so oh well.
Mine met at a Valentine’s Day party at the University of Wisconsin, Stevens Point, in 1975. The more interesting part, though, is that they got married only about 6 months after they met, in August 1975. And they won’t actually tells us when they got engaged, which makes me suspect it was fairly soon after meeting. But they are still together over 40 years later, so it seems to have worked out for the best.
“Don’t know” or “don’t want to know”? 
My parents met on a blind date set up by mutual friends. Both were still in high school. They married a few years later and stayed that way over 50 years, until the death of my dad.
National service.
Night before they got shipped out to the war in Angola, my dad and his buddies went around handing out bits of paper with their details to every pretty girl they saw.
Looking for pen pals , he admits that it was more of a “I ship out to war tomorrow, pity a poor soldier” situation.
My mum did not pity the poor soldier, but did collect all of his papers back from her friends the next day.
Unsurprisingly, only one girl wrote to him for those two years.
One year in, he got royally drunk and wrote a proposal letter, next morning the letter had left before he sobered up.
He had only seen pictures of her, she had seen, decided to have, and avoided him all on that same fateful night.
Fifty years next year.
My mother was a teller at a bank in downtown New Orleans and my father’s office was downtown too. Just so happens he banked at that very same branch.
Mom was friends with Dad’s younger sister in high school. Dad was constantly in the garage working on his cars (a portent of their future together), so she would see him whenever she visited her friend. I’m not sure who made the first move.
So he made the deposits, and watched the interest grow!
Stolen from, I think, Ann Landers.
Regards,
Shodan
College. Dad and Future Uncle were roommates.
Both parents taught at the same junior high school.
They met at one of those big nightclubs in Los Angeles, the type you see in movies set in the 1940s. He was in the Navy on shore leave, and she lived near downtown in a women’s boarding house, having just moved to L.A. from Minneapolis. She was 26 and he was 23. They were married for 33 years, until dad died in 1980.
Friend’s party, 1961. They were married three months later and had 19 years together before Dad died.
They worked together. My dad was an assistant manager at a Jack in the Box and my mom was his sassy new employee.
My mother was a school teacher. She was serious with another guy, who’d converted to Catholicism to be with her, looking toward marriage. She’d been in a horrible car accident, and had crushed both legs and had a foot partially amputated. She was in the hospital and a friend came by with her boyfriend. Before they left, the guy asked my mother if he could bring her something if they visited again. She said maybe a magazine or two. He came back alone with a bunch of “Field and Stream” and “Popular Mechanics” magazine and a twinkle in his eye. She dumped her fella, he dumped his gal and they married shortly after. He being a cradle Catholic too, their first date was to see Quo Vadis. They married and had 7 kids in 6 years. They were married 47 years, until my father’s death.
After my father’s death, my mother one of his oldest friends from his high school days, who’d also last his wife to cancer.
StG
In college. My and her beatnik friends decided to protest a football game by having a sit in on the 50 yard line.
The coach sent the players to carry them off the field. Dad picked up mom, carried her to the sideline and asked her out.
Good sense of situational awareness, my dad.
Blind date that apparently didn’t go well. Some time later they then ended up at a party together, and things clicked on the second meeting.
My parents met at a pizza restaurant in Sacramento. Mom wanted to know who owned the fancy T-bird parked out front.
The restaurant, by the way, was the original Shakey’s, which spawned the first big chain of pizza restaurants in the U.S. I owe them my life.
At a catholic school dance, obviously organized by Satan himself.
My dad was a 28 year old, just entering the workforce after two tours in Nam and 4 years in college. My mom was a 19 year old assistant at my Dad’s office. They both happened to be reading “Islands in the Stream” and he offered to fix her headlights.
Siblings, parents and grandparents.
I also know about all my great-grandparents.