Greg and I met at a bar called 1947 Tavern in Pittsburgh. Naturally, I drank Greg under the table, and somehow we ended up at a jazz bar. Being the only two goobers foolish enough to dance in the middle of the stage, it already felt like everyone around us could see we were meant for each other. Flash forward three years: we were trapped in a tiny one-bedroom outside Chicago with two pets that hated each other, just trying to survive Covid. Forced to work side by side at the dining room table with the bad chairs, we found our truest connection. Most couples might have killed each other spending that much time together, but us? We couldn’t get enough. Our bike rides through “Goose Mountain” and “Nuclear Waste Lake” (our lovingly nicknamed trails) felt like stolen, infinite moments. From there, life took us to Philadelphia, where we started new jobs and welcomed our first dog, Bear. While Abby and Monkey had already been running the show for years, Bear was our first real “joint project”. Those first few months were full of late nights and so much poop cleanup, but even through that chaos, we kept falling deeper in love. The kind of love that is steady, patient, and kind. Now here we are: our first house, our wedding, and the chance to share our happiness with our closest family and friends. Cheers to us!