On Ryan’s very first night living in Kansas City, after a long Instagram infatuation that stretched from Olathe to Oxford, he and Chad finally met in person at Tom’s Town for what would become two drinks, then a wander to Taps on Main, then a tumble into the warm glow of Green Lady Lounge jazz and unexpectedly honest conversation. They ended the night in Ryan’s barely moved-into apartment (one couch, one record player, zero décor) listening to Rumours on vinyl and discovering not only a shared devotion to a specific Stevie Nicks track, but also the bizarre fact that both had dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West at age four. By morning, the date just refused to end: they grabbed coffees, walked along the Missouri River, kept talking, and basically never stopped. What began as a mutual obsession with Oz turned into each finding their “no place like home”… in each other (and Sadie).

Chad's version: On our last night in Paris, instead of finding dinner near our hotel in picture-perfect St. Germain, Ryan insisted we eat near the Eiffel Tower — and that we walk the entire hour-and-fifteen-minute trek. I knew something was up. At dinner he casually announced, “We’re going up the Eiffel Tower after this,” and somehow had last-minute tickets (of course he did). What he didn’t mention was that the tickets were for the stairs. After he was stopped at security for something mysterious in his pants, I begrudgingly climbed all 50 flights, sweating and thinking, “this better be worth it!” The reason for the madness didn’t come until we were back at the base of the tower. Just as the lights began to sparkle, Ryan pulled out his phone and said he had written something eight years ago — before he knew I existed. He began reading: “Dear future husband…” I teared up and blacked out somewhere between the second sentence and the moment he reached into his underwear — where he had been hiding the ring case for the entire 90-minute walk and the entire ascent of the Eiffel Tower — and asked, “Should I get down on one knee?” “Probably yes,” I said. “I think you have to.” So he did. Strangers around us cheered. Our friends, who had been hiding in the bushes, rushed over to celebrate under the tower. We called our families. The lights kept sparkling. Ryan's version: All the same except I was winging it and stalling for time waiting for the lights to start shimmering. Also I didn't want to get down on one knee because a large Arabic-speaking family was walking towards us under the Eiffel Tower and I didn't want to make them uncomfortable. Chad made me anyway, I did, and the youngest boy applauded. #LoveWins #ChadLoses