I had been dating my boyfriend Tim for about eight months when we decided to take a vacation together. We opted for a cruise to the Bahamas, a destination neither of us had experienced before.
I really liked Tim—he was sweet, funny, and dependable—but I was beginning to question the future of our relationship. I wasn’t sure if he was “the one,” and I thought an international cruise might be the perfect test to see if we could navigate our relationship, both geographically and emotionally.
Unfortunately, the cruise didn’t live up to expectations. From the moment we boarded, we noticed a series of issues: peeling paint, broken deck chairs, and torn sun umbrellas. The ship’s ride was bumpy, resulting in seasickness for many passengers, and the conditions below deck were even worse.
It soon became apparent that our cruise ship was far from the luxury liner it was advertised to be. I found myself wondering if these unsettling vibes were a sign. Perhaps the universe was attempting to convey something to me.
On the second night, we were seated next to an older couple, Ruth and Paul. Originally from the East Coast, they had retired in Florida and were seasoned cruisers. Even though Ruth and Paul were in their eighties and Tim and I were in our twenties, we quickly became friends.
The couple was friendly and humorous, and we spent the evening past midnight playing shuffleboard, sipping daiquiris, and sharing stories about our lives. They recounted fond memories of their children and grandchildren, sharing pictures and amusing anecdotes. In turn, Tim and I talked about our families and our dreams for the future.
However, my seasickness was gradually worsening. After exhausting my supply of Dramamine, I resorted to feeling nauseous constantly. One night, while at a jazz concert onboard, I whispered to Tim that I felt sick and attempted to make my way back to our room. Tim followed closely behind and, in a moment of desperation, seized a large tip jar from the stage just in time for me to use it. The audience watched in horror as I threw up, and Tim held my hair back until it was over.
The next morning, I stayed in bed to recover, while Tim brought me pancakes and tea from the buffet. By lunchtime, I finally felt well enough to rejoin everyone. Ruth and Paul showed immense sympathy towards my plight, and we decided to lounge on deck chairs until dinner.
Ruth took the seat next to me. After a while, we had a heart-to-heart conversation, and I learned about her previous marriage, which had ended quickly because it simply hadn’t felt right. When I asked her why, her answer caught me off guard.
She told me, “I didn’t really know what love was.” I glanced over at Tim, who was engaged in conversation with Paul. Ruth noticed my gaze and nodded knowingly.
“Love is a choice,” she shared. “It’s caring for someone through good times and bad, putting their happiness before your own, and trusting them to do the same for you.”
In that moment, I thought of all the ways Tim had taken care of me, like holding my hair back and bringing me breakfast. It was as if Ruth could read my thoughts.
“He’s the one for you,” she said, winking toward Tim. “Don’t let him get away.”
A few days later, the cruise concluded, and we all parted ways. While reflecting on the trip during our flight home, I realized how profound Ruth’s simple words were.
Three months later, Tim proposed, and I said yes.
On the morning of our wedding, I wrote Tim a card recounting the story of Ruth’s advice and how much it meant to me. Later that day, after exchanging our vows, Tim revealed that Paul had given him the same advice about me.
Twelve years and six kids later, we remain grateful for the strangers who became friends and for the wisdom that changed our lives forever.