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Welcome to the Love Story Blog of Love-Sessions.

Do you have a special love story? Actually every love story is great. How does it begin, what did it take, who was involved and how did it end if it ended.

Hollywood's best movies are love stories! We are eager to read yours or maybe you are just eager to read others.  Maybe one of the producers of Hollywood is reading your story and what a story that would be!

Enjoy our site and we look forward to receive your story!

The road that we chose :)

Posted on : 06-01-2010 | By : manu831raj | In : Romance Love Story

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In our religion, it’s an omen to sneeze before you start a new task. It doesn’t matter if the task is small or big. When i started to type my first entry, my husband sneezed. lol =] It’s also forbidden to have a girlfriend or a boyfriend. Our parents choose the person who we will spend the rest of our lives with…these are the rules that i have to live with. I truly love my religion and so does gurwinder(my husband). It teaches us many important values that we use in our daily lives. Our religion teaches us many things including that we should respect elders, believe in one god, and never hurt anyone. Today i am 14 years old and my husband is 19. Shocking? yea…if i was in your place i would be shocked too. In fact we live in the USA, and i wasn’t forced to be married at such a young age; this is what i chose…this is what i wanted. On August 11th,2009 gurwinder put sindoor(vermilion) on my forehead. This is supposed to be done on the day of our marriage, in my religion. It’s a very important ritual. When he did that, i was considered and still am considered his wife and forever will be. We made this choice after 2 years of getting to know each other. Gurwinder asked me for my e-mail address on July 4th, 2007…2 years ago and that’s how everything began (click on The Begginning… to get the details of our begining). No one in my life knows that we really are husband and wife except for my younger sister, Ravneet(shes 11 today), who will play a very important role in our life. Every morning gurwinder picks me up and drops me at school. This way we get to meet for about 40 minutes everyday in the morning. My parents think that i take the bus everyday, but i don’t. I only take the bus sometimes; most of the days i go with gurwinder. We have to meet secretly everyday of our lives. I used to love summer until i started to date gurwinder. I hate summer now because, i never get to meet gurwinder in summer. It’s way too hard to get out of the house and meet him without letting anybody notice…it gets way too risky. Once Gurwinder gets a degree in Comptuer Science and Accounting, he will come to my house and ask for my hand from my parents. Most likely, we are going to have to run away…but let’s hope for the best. If i ever get caught with gurwinder or if my parents find out that i have a boyfriend (for us we are husband and wife..but u get the picture) i will be sent to india forever. And i know for sure that i will end up doing something stupid if i can’t hear his voice or meet him….who am i kidding, i would die….

(Screen) Name: monaxoxo831

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Love on 4th of July???

Posted on : 01-01-2010 | By : Love Story Writer ... | In : Romance Love Story, Soul Mates

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You wouldn’t think that a 12 year old and a 17 year old would fall in love huh? It was a hot summer day….no it was 4th of July. I was getting ready to go to my temple (gurdwara), i quickly combed my hair and put on my white suit and we headed towards the gurdwara. I sat in the Langar Hall (place in the temple where food is served) with my friend. I saw him coming towards me and then he asked me for my e-mail adress and I gave it to him…I had known this guy from a long time ago…i used to live in the same neighborhood as him. I was very young when we used to play outside together along with many other kids. I was 8 years old when i first had a crush on him but then i had to move to another part of the suburbs in 4th grade. My heart was broken when my family and I moved away from him. But i met him again on 4th of July. As soon as i got home on that day, i checked my e-mail and we started to talk online.Then all of the sudden he asked me out….and i said yes instantly. That was my most amazing day ever. I was 12 and he was 17…he thought i was older because i looked older to him. When we started to talk on the phone, he asked me many questions and after 2 years of our relationship, we kissed.Pretty late huh? Well during those two years we went through a lot…we had our ups and downs but in the end…we were always together. Today i am 14 years old and my name is Manpreet. That boy’s name is Raj, he is 19 today. In our religion, when you put vermillon (sindoor) on a girl’s forehead, she’s considered your wife and from that day and on…you are considered to be married. On August 11th, 2009 he put vermillon on my forehead…and we were married. We knew so much about each other…In those two years we got to know each other so well that we trusted and still so trust each other more than anybody in the world. In our culture, everybody believes in castes even though our god said that there shouldn’t be any castes. I’m from a low caste and Raj is from a higher caste…there’s a 5 years of difference between us and yet we still are together today. It’s hard to believe isn’t it? It’s your choice to believe if this story is true or not…we have a site that we made please visit www.2heartz1soul.webs.com to know more about our love and why we are made for each other. Love…you can’t define it..you have to fall in love to know what it is 🙂
-MKB & GSB

(Screen) Name: mona831raj

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Love Defined

Posted on : 13-09-2009 | By : Love Story Writer ... | In : Romance Love Story

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I know there are many of you out there, maturity levels ranging far above and below my own, who believe my youth invalidates my story. I don’t blame you. I am only sixteen. “Highschool love” is just a big oxymoron to me. But no matter how many relationship websites or love story blogs you visit, you will never be able to define love like this.
Quite honestly, love is indefinite. I can’t define love, but I can tell you how love defines my relationship.

-Our romance is beneath our friendship. He is my best friend, not just my boyfriend. And “best friend” is how I will always think of him first. We agreed if we have to, we will break up before that ever changes.
-I lied to him that my parents abused me. I created bruises all over my body and slit my writs. I faked fainting spells and arrhythmia. I called him frequently while sobbing and threatening to commit suicide, faking my suicide twice. I faked extreme pyrophobia. And then I told him the truth.
-We talked ahead of time about sex. We are going to wait. We’re too young. We’re still growing. Things as important as sex should not be rushed, forced. Sex is a gift and a connection that we’re not mentally, physically prepared for.
-He thought he was going to die. I ditched the entire school day to be with him, deliberately disobeying my parents.
-He asked me what I would think if he left for the entire summer to go to a prestigious musicians camp. Though I didn’t want him to go, I encouraged him to. I will do what’s best for him even when it isn’t easy for me. While he was gone, I spent time with his mom. We planned a surprise party for the day he got back. I invited his close friends and cooked his favorite meals.
-When he is insecure, I don’t make him feel better. I give him a reality check.
-We are taking ballroom dance lessons together so that we won’t be like every other annoying couple vacuuming each other’s faces off at prom.
-We don’t make out. We don’t kiss. We connect. We are affectionate vs sexual.
-We are in love.

(Screen) Name: Nina

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Letting Go.

Posted on : 18-03-2009 | By : Love Story Writer ... | In : Fictional Love Story, Romance Love Story

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The time was fall of 2005. I am walking with someone who is very dear to me. Someone I adore deeply. She is a woman my age. Where we are walking is a heavily forested area that is all her land. It is remote and far away from everything. There is only one road through here. The forest on her land is broken by two hay fields, two horse pastures, half a dozen natural clearings, and a house and barn. There are 15 horses here, a couple tractors, assorted haying machinery, horse trailers, and the like. She looks after it all.

This is hardly a good day for a walk however. In the early morning the sky did not become light until well after it should have due to a very solid, dark and heavy overcast. It’s not raining, but there’s a heavy mist coming down. The mist collects in the pine trees and falls to the ground in big drops. We are walking on a tractor trail that connects the house and barn with the fields and some of the clearings. Often there is evidence of the activities of bears and wolves in the open areas. The horses are kept close to the house, and that is where the main pastures are as well. The wild animals stay away from that area other than an occasional sighting when they approach for a look out of curiosity. When ever she comes back this far on her land though, she carries a rifle. But today I am carrying it, slung over my shoulder.

This walk in less than ideal conditions is a necessary one. She talks about what this land means to her. She loves it. She knows every tree here. The fences that frame this huge tract of land, she put up by herself. She does the haying, training and feeding the horses, and works on the machinery or anything that needs fixing. There is always a lot to do here. Yet this woman next to me is just five feet tall, and has never weighed more than 120 pounds in her life. But she is a tough little stick of dynamite. She knows what work is, and often starts her day at 5:00 a.m. no matter what the weather brings.

She has auburn colored hair – fairly long. I often thought that a woman so outdoor active would prefer shorter hair. But she keeps it long and I’m glad, because it’s very pretty. I adore her smile. When she smiles, her eyes smile. Her feminine figure is evident in her blue jeans, tapered shirt, and a waist length denim jacket to help ward off the mist. She is beautiful. I have studied her figure every chance I get for two years now. I find her intriguing. And still, after two years when we create our private and intimate time to come together and she stands before me, I still tremble.

She wears leather work gloves now, since she had been feeding the horses earlier. Her jeans are worn and faded from long hours of mending fences, and cleaning stalls. Her denim jacket is worn as well, and the cuffs are becoming frayed. Our boots are soaked from walking in the wet tall grass.

After she has talked and made clear her need for this place and what she does here, I take control of the conversation. I too love the place where I live, my little town. I am part of it, and all in the community share a devotion for one another. And my work is my life. I could never do anything else. Before I go to work, I feel good. I feel good while I am at work doing what I do. And when I get home, I feel good about what I have done. The problem that faces us is that our lives are 90 miles apart. I have been seeing her for two years. When ever any time at all permits, I drive out to be with her. Sometimes I can stay two or three days. Sometimes it’s only for 12 hours. But I am neglecting my own home, and the obligations that come with it.

I have had experience with horses and I appreciate anything mechanical. I help her with all the tasks around this place. But most of all, I cherish the time I have in her presence. But it is apparent that the physical gap, in miles, that separates us can never be closed. She has to stay where she is, and I have to stay where I am. The impracticality of our deep affection for each other is surfacing with time, after having been ignored for so long. This conclusion wasn’t arrived at today. It is something we have been discussing for a couple months. The fixes for the problem simply won’t work. And this reality is boldly before us.

After we each take our turns speaking, there is silence as we walk. I take her gloved hand in my hand to silently confirm with her she is still in my heart. We pass patches of wild strawberries and blueberries. I know she is thinking she must get back out here and pick them for canning before the bears take them all. It’s part of her ritual. I understand it’s part of the fulfillment she cherishes by living here.

We are getting closer to the barn now, and beyond that is where my truck is parked. The best route from the barn to my truck is to follow a fence line through the trees. We walk into the barn and I dry off the rifle with a dirty towel on a work bench. I put the rifle where it belongs – concealed behind a wooden plank. Just above us in the rafters, is an owl. He has long since become accustomed to the daytime activities in the barn, and is fast asleep. The dreary day has made the light in the barn very dim. Usually, on a sunny day, the barn is a very bright and welcoming. But not today. The mist has given way to a steady rain now. The shoulders and sleeves of her jacket are already quite wet from the long walk in the mist. And my clothes are wet too. We talk some more in the barn. We are old enough and smart enough to realize that if either one of us sacrificed a part of his or her world to be with the other all the time, it wouldn’t work out. Sacrifice would turn into regret, and regret is an anchor on a vessel that must keep moving forward. So it is now that we fully understand we must let go.

We leave the barn through the opposite door we came in, towards my truck. We walk along the fence line to the opposite side of the trees. We stop here. My truck is just one hundred yards away. We turn towards each other and I place my hands on her waist. She takes off her leather gloves and lets them drop to the ground as she puts her hands on my waist as well. We confirm that we will miss each other very much. I am looking intently at her pretty face.

We only talk a little bit out here because we are getting rain soaked. I could never leave here. She tells me. I could never live in a town. And I know you could never give up being an Engineer and leave the rails and the trains.

You are really good with the horses she continues, and good with the machines too. You know what needs to be done, and when to do it. Both with this land. she steps in a little closer to me, and with a smile and a quiet voice says, and with me too. She is looking up at me. As the rain falls on her face, her eyes don’t even flinch. This woman has stood outside in much worse weather than this. I leaned down and kissed her mouth. I knew that would be our last kiss, and I expected her to let go of me at that moment, but she didn’t. Instead she shook me slightly, as if she didn’t already have my complete attention. You know what I wish? What I really, really wish? I wish you and I had connected 20 years ago, instead of just two. 20 years ago we didn’t have such deep set roots in our lives, we were more flexible, and together we could have grown in to who we are now.. because you and I make one hell of a good team.

With that, she let go of me, and I her. She bent over to pick up her gloves off the ground and began walking the fence line back through the trees. I studied her figure for the last time as she left. I lost focus for a moment as I realized that I had a lot of thoughts and painful emotions to analyze over the coming days. When I looked for her again, she was gone. Out of necessity, we had given up something very precious. And now I was a man who had lost true love, just standing in the rain.

(Screen) Name: Derail

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