Think it's women who fall in love at first sight? Wrong! Two writers share their heartwarming story...

• Writers Christy and Clare Campbell have been married for 35 years
• Although he fell in love instantly, she took another six months
• 25 per cent of men and 20 per cent of women fall in love at first sight

[CHRISTY AND CLARE CAMPBELL]

PUBLISHED: 16:56 EST, 21 July 2013 | UPDATED: 03:08 EST, 22 July 2013

How long does it take to fall in love? Research has revealed that a quarter of men admit to falling in love at first sight, but only 20 per cent of women. 

Here, writers Christy and Clare Campbell, who have been married for 35 years and have three children,  recall how long it took for Cupid’s arrow to hit the spot.

Happily married: Christy and Clare have been together for more than 35 years and have three children

HIM: LOVE STRUCK  IN TEN MINUTES

There was this girl at a party, the younger sister of my college pal Bill. She was wearing a crimson-and-blue, floor-length dress in some sort of gossamer material, and you could see quite a bit of her through it.

Her body was all angles, as if the erotic painter Modigliani had assembled her out of Lego. It was her shoulder blades that got me, though. My knees went wobbly.

That’s how it’s meant to happen, isn’t it? No words exchanged, no ritual dance to check out someone’s social 'suitability'. You see someone you really fancy and just get stuck in. It used to be called love at first sight. Well, it happened to me — in less than ten minutes. 

I’d always been a sucker for this kind of thing, going all gooey about a girl I’d seen on the Tube or even in a magazine. The trouble was, in that hormonal-emotional Sargasso Sea between late adolescence and college graduation, I’d been 'in love' plenty of times, but all to no effect.

While other young adult chums were cosily pairing off, I was mooning round impossible objects of desire. I rather enjoyed it. Subconsciously perhaps, I enjoyed it so much I set the bar of impossibility higher and higher.

At one stage, I found myself 'in love' with the bob-haired silent-film actress Louise Brooks, born half-a-century before me. Then I became convinced the only female who really understood my anguish was my tortoiseshell cat, Flossie. This was clearly going nowhere.

Then it happened. It was a family party at the South London home of my college friend’s parents. And there she was, Bill’s kid sister. Her name was Clare. She looked fabulous. 

In love: Christy and Clare soon after they began dating. He was already in love. She, by contrast, was not

All the other girls, half-glimpsed disappearing down escalators on the Tube, fell off the edge of the world. This time it was different. It was a physical reaction that consumed my whole being. 

And I know I’m not alone. Many of my male friends have admitted the same thing occurred when they met 'the one'. In fact, two of my close friends have gone on to marry Clare’s friends, and they also said they knew immediately.

She spoke. It was posh-Purdey from the New Avengers with a street-cred dash of South London. ‘This is my fiance,’ she announced, gesturing to some bloke at her side.

I’d done it again: fallen for the girl I could never get; tilted my hat at the impossible object of desire.
Except this time I put up a fight. This girl was real, not a fantasy. She had a home phone number, and her brother Bill, with whom I’d shared many drunken conversations on the trials of love, also proved an early ally in the great quest.

Battle was joined. I had my first proper job and Clare was conveniently in her final year at university, away from London, so there were plenty of potential chinks in my love rival’s armour. What a rat I was being. But I was in love — and that justified everything.

Time passed. I’d fallen in love in an instant, while she was still shilly-shallying round after three months, and was still engaged! 

And so we traversed the landscape of young love behaving like we were something out of Brief Encounter. There were visits to art-house cinemas, nights drinking in out-of-the-way pubs (where none of our friends would see us) and autumnal, leaf-kicking walks in suitably obscure locations.

When at parties with mutual friends around, we’d pretend we hardly knew each other. Just getting away with it was terrifically exciting.There were rows and sulks. Serial monogamy was clearly more honourable for Clare than sleeping with two men and not telling one of them. I just wanted to get on with it.

Love at first sight: William Shakespeare's Romeo is immediately smitten by the beautiful Juliet

Lightening bolt: Nicholas Cage's character in City of Angels gives up immortality for love

But, little by little, I won this guerilla war. Not just to make Clare love me, but to make her confident enough to break off her engagement — which, after six months, she did.

No wonder women take longer to fall in love — there’s so much to be sure of. Why trust a guy who says it’s you, and you only? How many others has he said that to?

Perhaps I was lucky. I fell in love at first sight with someone who seemed like yet another impossible object of desire. Except she wasn’t. Eventually, she loved me back — and still does. 

HER: IT TAKES AT  LEAST SIX MONTHS

A tall, handsome boy I’d only met for the first time earlier that day was looking down at me and smiling. 'Can I get you a glass of champagne?' he said.

Christy, my older brother Bill’s best friend from university, had been paying way too much attention to me all evening, and this had not gone unnoticed by my boyfriend of two years, who had recently become my fiance.

I was flattered, but also extremely flustered. In the whole time we’d been dating I hadn’t looked at another man. Now I felt confused.

I’d never met Christy before but he was intelligent, charming, attractive and very funny. We chatted for an hour, I drank far too much, and I realised the next morning I’d agreed to meet him the following weekend.

My brother was thrilled. He loved the thought I might start dating his friend. My parents liked Christy, too, but my close friends were appalled. For them, my boyfriend and I had almost become part of the furniture. 

So I didn’t tell them (or my boyfriend, obviously) when I went to a party with Christy the following weekend. Looking back, I feel ashamed of my behaviour. My parents had always told me never to do anything I wouldn’t like someone else to do to me.

I never intended to hurt my fiance, but was worried how I could find someone else so attractive while I was supposed to be in love with him. I thought it was better to find out now rather than after we were married.

I enjoyed that party a lot. I liked Christy a lot. He was chaotic (he still is) but great fun. Although I didn’t do anything more than kiss him goodbye at the end of the night, I felt terribly guilty. 

So I decided not to see him again. I convinced myself it was just a passing crush. Over the next two months, however, I began to think about him more and more. I tried to listen to my  friends who reminded me that Christy had never been out with anyone for more than a few months, so why should I be any different? 

I knew there was an element of truth to their words: even at 21, I realised men fall in love so much more easily than women. 

I was in my final year at university, while Christy was working for a magazine publishing company in London. I still saw him occasionally at weekends, when he came to see Bill. 

Often I’d find myself chatting over breakfast with him and catch myself feeling jealous if I thought he’d been out with another girl  the night before. And still he made  me laugh. 

So when he suggested going for a walk together, I agreed. Then I found myself agreeing to see a film. Before long, I was seeing him regularly. I knew it  was wrong, but I convinced myself  that as long as we weren’t sleeping together it didn’t technically count as being unfaithful.

As the weeks went on, and after much agonising, I decided to break off my engagement. How could I marry when I had feelings for another man?

Finishing with my fiance was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and even though I was now free to start seeing Christy, I was too upset to do so. I spent evenings weeping during my university finals, feeling wretched and unsure. 

In the meantime, both Christy and my ex were bombarding me with phone calls. My father’s observation that: 'Well, you don’t have to marry either of them,' was no great help.

Eventually, I agreed to meet Christy again, and this time I had no doubts. I remember the day I knew I was in love. He took me to lunch to meet his sister and brother-in-law, where he sat down and played blues piano to his six-year-old niece. That was it for me. He was already wonderful company: now I could see he was warm and compassionate, too.

So, yes, it probably took me six months to fall in love with Christy, not just one meeting. People may assume it’s us women who fall in love instantly, but for me it was a slow burn, and I needed time to deliberate. 

Yet once I was certain, I never doubted it. Six months later, Christy asked me  to meet him at the Ritz Hotel bar, and  he proposed. ‘Nothing would make me happier,’ I answered. And it was true.

 Clare and Christy Campbell’s latest book, Bonzo’s War, will be published by Constable and Robinson this autumn.