I made the first move with the Lovely and Talented Mrs. Shodan, AFAIK.
I add the caveat because I was under the impression that I had been the initiator in the relationship all along. Some years after our marriage, she mentioned that actually she had decided that I was The One, and it was merely a matter of “setting the hook” and then “reeling it in”. Seems to have done the trick - I have been stuffed and mounted on her wall for the last twenty-six years or so.
It was my Darling Marcie who blazed the trail and led the way----I was six years past a disastrous divorce that ended a nineteen year relationship and I was terrified of women in general and commitment in particular. The first time she hinted that a kiss would be nice, I pecked her on the forehead and ran for the door.
We’re separated now, but we were sitting in a bar very late at night, having hung around as friends a lot, and she turned to me with a frustrated expression and said “You just don’t get it, do you?”
I said “Huh?”
She said “I like you.”
So I said “What the hell,” and kissed her.
The previous one, I chased and chased and chased her for months, but was too nervous about “screwing up the friendship” to make a move. Until one summer night I could handle it no more, and as we were laying out beneath the stars under a blanket, as we’d done for the previous two nights, I kissed her. She kissed me back.
We were inlaws for 10 years. Both our relationships crumbled and he made the first move. It didn’t take the first time, but eventually it all came together.
More on topic: I did, but unbeknownst to me, she’d been interested in me for a while. I offered English lessons, something I had done for occasional side work. The language barrier turned out to be a time-saver: apparently misunderstanding, she met me dolled up and ready for a first date, which is what I really wanted anyway. I learned her language, then she mine.
Berlitz? Rosetta Stone? Forget it. Marriage is the ultimate immersion program.