Like all great modern romances, ours began on Bumble, where Amanda handed over her number and basically said, “Text me if you’re interested, I’m getting off this app.” Justin, being a logical man, assumed this was a trap. Or a bot. Or both. Because clearly a woman like that wasn’t real. Plot twist: she was very real. Our first date was a lunch at Nate’s Seafood, where we talked easily, laughed a lot, and then wrapped things up with the world’s most awkward Gumby‑style goodbye hug. Amanda went home convinced Justin wasn’t into her. Plot twist #2: he was. He asked her out again. Date #2 was mini golf, tacos, and tequila — the holy trinity of good decisions — and also where we had our first kiss, which was significantly less awkward than the Gumby hug and significantly more “oh… this could be something.” As things got more serious, Amanda eventually met Justin’s kids, Margo and Walter, on New Year’s Eve. They were instantly the brightest part of the whole story — the kind of wonderful that makes you fall even harder for the person who made them. A few months later, we moved in together. One year after that, we got engaged. Because when you know, you know — and we knew fast. Now we’re here, ready to make it official, still laughing about that first hug, still choosing each other, and still very much obsessed.