What lovely romantic stories.
Far too many and embarrassing to relate, so I will just tell the most embarrassing of all that still leaves me going hot and cold to think of it.
My father came from a lifestyle that believed in girls never just going out with one boy, until they were engaged. He wanted safety in numbers, tennis parties, going out with several boys at once as just friends and so on. That world barely existed by the time I was a teenager and it was very hard to convince him of that - any girl who went out with several boys at once was seen as a trollop and a two-timer by my peers. If he thought I was just seeing one boy I would be gated.
So I had to pick boys from several worlds and take them home to introduce to my father to keep him happy, whilst keeping them apart from my friends and from each other, and one awful day they all met. I was 17 and I left school a bit late one day to find that three had come to meet me and escort me home. 19 year old Philippe from France in his citroen, who I had met on holiday and had rung my mother to see if he could pop over (me in Tun Wells and him with a holiday home in le Touquet so it was easy) and surprise me as he had to leave any day to do his service militaire, 20 year old Grant, with his mini, had an afternoon off from his job as an apprentice mechanic, and 18 year old Mike from the boys' grammar over the road.
I just looked at them all, burst into tears, jumped into Philippe's car and told him to get going fast! I realised that he would be staying with my family, as his parents and mine had become friends. As he had also told me that his parents expected to have a say in who he married I knew he would understand rather better than the others. I can't say he was happy, but we stayed in contact with each other for the next five years, which was more than I could say for the others!