When I quit my job, the CFO came to my house and kissed me. We've now been married for over 25 years.

• My CFO and I became good friends while working, but there was nothing romantic between us.
• When I quit the job, he showed up at my house to deliver me my last pay stub, and we kissed.

I have read and heard about "love at first sight" many times, but my true love story is somewhere on the other end of the spectrum.

When I worked as an insurance agent for a brokerage, David was the CFO. We saw one another most days and occasionally were the only ones working in the building when the official workday had ended, but reams of paperwork still covered our desks.

After a phone call from a client got on my last nerve, it wasn't unusual for me to grab a cold soft drink and hide in his office for half an hour.

There was no romantic spark between us. We were just two coworkers who relied on each other's company to get through the workday.

But all that changed when I decided to change jobs.

A knock at the door changed everything

I liked my job, but I knew a good deal when I saw it. Another company offered me a position with a higher base salary and commission.

After giving my notice, I took the summer off, excited to dive deeper into the insurance industry.

On the following Friday, around noon, my doorbell rang. David looked a little sheepish when I answered the door. He said, "I thought I would drop off your pay stub."

On payday, David would always deliver everyone's pay stub to their desk. David felt he still needed to deliver my pay stub one last time.

I invited him in for lunch which turned out to be a couple of subs, quickly thrown together.

After an hour of jovial conversation, David reluctantly said he needed to return to the office.

What happened may be reminiscent of a daytime soap or drama, but it's all true. As he reached the door, David turned around, and his car keys slipped out of his hand. We both bent over to pick them up, our eyes meeting and locking together as we stood upright again.

A few uncomfortable seconds passed before David leaned in for a kiss that lasted several minutes. When the hottest kiss I ever had was over, he fumbled over the words, "I should…"

At the same time, I said, "You'll call?" David told me he would call, and as he headed back to his car, I leaned against the door.

"Whoa," I thought. "Where the heck did that come from?"

We went on a date, and we've been together ever since

I expected David to call maybe the next week, giving me time to absorb what had happened and what it meant. It turned out that I didn't have that much time.

David's number came up on my phone later that evening, and I answered tentatively. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't mad at me for, you know, what happened today," he said.

I surely wasn't mad — maybe a little confused, but definitely not mad.

We talked for over two hours and made dinner plans the next week. I had no qualms about David picking me up.

Having spent five days deciding what to wear as I stood in front of my closet, the clothes yet again staring back at me, I opted to buy a new dress. At the mall, I found a dress and a matching purse — all in under an hour. But it turned out the shoes caused the most indecisiveness. I wanted to wear flats to avoid getting my heel stuck in the cobblestone sidewalk, but David was nearly seven feet tall. I picked out a pair of stilettos and would take my chances.

In hindsight, I shouldn't have worried about my outfit because that evening brought us a revelation: We were meant to be together. We had both been in a prior long-term relationship that didn't work out; we each had a child, and we genuinely liked one another.

Just over a month later, we were engaged.

It took us four years of being coworkers before we discovered we were the perfect match. But I'm happy we waited because everything worked out. We've now spent half a century together happily.