We can't wait to celebrate with you!

After weeks of fun courtship and agonizing postponement (suffering through one flimsy excuse after another), the stage was set for Catherine and I to meet in person. Having spent half of the day poolside, I hastily made way back to my apartment to piece together plans for one of the summer’s most auspicious of evenings. After donning of some patriotic hues, I confirmed with Catherine that we would meet at Shooters on the Lake, one of the most romantic locations known to the greater Cleveland area. She was with friends, so naturally my best friend/then-roommate and now wingman, Mike, was invited along. We climbed into the Uber. Arriving on scene, the bar was awash with some of the most xenophilic people I had ever seen. Men, women, and children alike, all gathered in anticipation of the pending light display (fireworks, to the layperson) honoring the stars and stripes. Not wanting to miss a romantic cue, I frantically engaged Cate in a text thread in an attempt to locate her. Ever the gumshoe, Catherine had the gumption to ask what color clothes I was wearing (as if the red, white and blue clothing would set me out in the crowd), and when suggested she send me a picture of a nearby landmark, instead decided to reply she was ‘by a lamppost.' For those who haven’t been to Shooters, there are A MULTITUDE of lampposts on account. My heart sunk. I looked at Mike who feigned a supportive look, but beneath his affirming veneer, I could tell I was losing him. Was this to be another missed connection? Or worse- had I been speaking with a 56 year old basement-dwelling man this entire time who had now been made? No. Rising above the doubt that clouded my senses, my heart took charge and spurred me into action. I called Mike to my side and we went, searching the crowd, scanning for the enigmatic young woman who had captivated my every thought since we first connected.

And there she was. We both breathed a sigh of relief that we were not the victim of a Catfish plot and after having a group drink (shout out to Bethy Jarus, who was also present), moved to Nano brew (sans Bethy) where we later lost Mike to fatigue. Lost in conversation until last call, I then saw Cate to her Uber and meandered home, wondering with the giddiness a of Christmas Eve night as to when we would next meet. My pondering was assuaged when Catherine invited me to her apartment the following evening where we constructed the family tree which, unbeknownst to us at the time, would later become the device for me to ask the most daunting and important question of my life. That is a long and dramatic account of our first meeting. If you lost interest, or simply did not read, hopefully your eyes will at least catch this- Since meeting Cate, there has been no looking back. Save for work and *maybe* a family obligation or two, we have spent nearly all our time together. I can personally say this has been the happiest stretch of my life (and I have been fortunate to have a pretty great life). Meeting Cate, learning about Cate, and continuing to discover new things about her, myself, and us has been one grand adventure. Not to mention the addition of two ornery dogs (yes, I am loath to not mention them) to our existing threesome (I didn’t forget about you, Bingley). I, and I think I speak for us both, look forward immensely to continuing this journey in marriage.

We messaged for a few weeks—a timeline that is debatable to this day. Despite there being rainchecks on meeting due to my nerves, conversation came easily. It was something I quickly looked forward to, and I soon realized I would regret passing on the opportunity to meet. Cue July 4th, 2018. We had made tentative plans to meet that night. I was apprehensively preparing for this by floating on a dragon in my parents’ pool when Molly came outside with my phone. She said, “Ryan Codner is calling you”. I scrambled for cover by saying it was a coworker because I wasn’t ready to introduce this idea just yet. (Fast forward a few months to my mom reporting that she overheard this interaction and knew something was up.) Ryan had called to check to see how the parade was—Michael Maloney for Westlake Law Director, everyone—and to see what our plans were for that night. I was impressed and slightly confused at the gesture. It was respectfully deliberate in a way that I would come to recognize as a common trait of Ryan’s. When I say was a WRECK of nervousness, I mean I was teetering on internal hysteria. I’ve never spent so long debating shoe choices in my life, and I’m not proud of it. I must acknowledge Bethy Jarus here for being my emotional and borderline physical support leading up to the actual meeting. Ryan and his friend/support person Mike Quinn would meet us at Shooter’s, just before the fireworks. Or so was the plan. We spent 40 minutes searching for the other, all within the same bar. I admit, asking questions such as... “What are you wearing?” "Red, you?” “Blue.” …wasn’t the best way to deduct from the mass amount of people on the 4th of July.

Finally, the stars aligned, and we met in person. We introduced our friends as well and had a great evening. My anxieties disappeared, and I couldn’t wait to see Ryan again. I invited Ryan over the next day and was happily surprised that the invitation was accepted. Fun fact: Ryan and I were discussing our families after he arrived, and a family tree was drawn up on a piece of scrap paper. Fast forward three years later, and that same family tree served as key player in the proposal. With Bingley’s approval, we have spent time together ever since! Without Bingley’s approval, we have added two more terror-iers to the crew. It’s hard to describe how our life together has evolved since those fateful nights. I tell Ryan that I feel like I can exhale now. This has been a journey I wasn’t sure I’d be fortunate enough to experience, and I look forward to every moment together. I cannot wait to celebrate our love with everyone!