Is that what genuine love feels like? By Marcus Ryle
Many ponder whether true love at first sight is purely a romantic myth. As a 13-year-old, I hadn’t yet grappled with such ideas. Love, especially that as profound as “true love,” seemed a far-off concept. At the time, my main affection was music. I played keyboards in bands with my friends, dreaming of rock stardom. I idolized bands like Emerson, Lake & Palmer and Yes, but my older sister and I were also huge fans of Elton John. When we learned he would be performing nearby, we pleaded with our mother to take us. True to form, she agreed to load up our Ford Country Squire station wagon with me, my sister, and several teenage friends of hers.
One of those friends brought along her younger sister, Susan. As the two youngest, we wound up in the back seat during the long drive from our home in the San Fernando Valley to Inglewood. Sitting beside her, I felt an unfamiliar sensation. Susan was tall and striking, with long brown hair framing her bright brown eyes. Her laughter, punctuated by a charming dimpled smile, made conversation effortless. My heart raced; was this what true love was?
Once we entered the Fabulous Forum, I made it a point to sit next to her. Elton John was captivating, yet my attention frequently drifted to her. I couldn’t concentrate fully on the concert, preoccupied with wondering if she might feel the same pull toward me. The show played on while I wrestled with insecurities about my appearance—my braces, my glasses, my overall height.
Returning to Portola Junior High, I sought every opportunity to bump into Susan. Being a grade above her, I staked out the courtyard during lunch and between classes, searching for excuses to spark a conversation. I often relied on music to break the ice, surprising her once with a new Elton album. Our budding friendship included long phone chats until our siblings would remind us to relinquish the line.
Over the years, my feelings deepened. Susan was brilliant, funny, and kind and shared my passion for music. Could anyone else ever compare? Eventually, I gathered the courage to confess my feelings. I visited her home, sharing my dreams of us marrying one day. She listened patiently and gently told me she didn’t feel the same way, offering a hope for friendship instead. I was heartbroken, yet clung to the belief it was a minor setback.
As time passed, we drifted apart despite keeping in touch less frequently. I was busy with different bands while she excelled in her high school choir, and we shared our experiences during rare phone calls. By the time I turned 16, my family moved to Westchester near the airport, and hers relocated further north to Westlake Village. The miles stretched between us, but a flicker of hope remained.
That summer, serendipity struck when Susan and her sister visited the area. When she stepped out of the car, I was struck by that same initial feeling I’d had years ago. This time, I was no longer sporting braces, had swapped out glasses for contact lenses, and could proudly stand taller. “Maybe we could go out sometime,” she casually suggested, and I made sure our “sometime” was swift.
Our first real date involved ice skating at Topanga Plaza, capped by dinner at Carl’s Jr. She remained easy to converse with and was still the love of my life. Whimsically, she had downplayed her skating skills but dazzled me by gliding effortlessly around the rink. After months of anticipation, our first kiss finally sealed the evening—a moment I had imagined since that memorable concert.
Fifty years have passed since that fateful night on October 6, 1974. Since then, Susan and I have played music together, launched businesses, and traveled extensively. We’ve enjoyed more than four decades of marriage, raised two wonderful children, and celebrated the arrival of a grandchild. Through it all, I feel fortunate to experience that “love at first sight” sensation every time I see her.
The author is a semi-retired strategic adviser for companies in audio and musical instruments, having previously worked as a studio musician and product designer. He and Susan, both locals from Los Angeles, have played in bands together and co-founded Line 6, a guitar products company. They currently reside in Ventura County, where they still enjoy playing music together at home.