In the age of social media, we met on a dating app. A date was planned and I ended up cancelling for no real particular reason. Maybe it was just bad timing? Almost two years later, while scrolling through Instagram, I came across Netza’s profile. I remembered him and decided to add him. Shortly after, he sent me a DM, asking if I was going to ghost him again. This banter continued for about 6 months before everything finally aligned for us to plan a first date. We met for a beer at a local brewery and commiserated over quitting our jobs in the same month and shared how we both would likely be moving away for our next job. He had an interview lined up in San Diego and I had a job lining up in Florida. Netza didn’t consider this the first date. He claimed it to be a pre-date interview. On our second date , which Netza refers to as “the real first date,” he offered to pick me up for our dinner reservations at a sushi restaurant. It was chilly outside, Netza apologized that the windows in his truck kept fogging. He seemed a little tense. I jokingly suggested that he could stop breathing so hard to make the fogging stop. He laughed, this broke the ice. The rest of the date, we talked for hours about aliens, food, family, and debated whether it was normal to be on an abnormal number of fantasy football teams. On the way back to his car he held my hand. It was cute.

Last July, we traveled to Tokyo and Okinawa, Japan. I decided Okinawa would be the perfect place to propose. I spent weeks emailing a hotel manager trying to coordinate a private dinner, romantic setup, and proposal. I’m not entirely sure if my emails made sense given the language barrier or if the manager was simply trusting the process more than I was. The night finally arrived, and it was pouring rain. We walked ten minutes to dinner sharing one tiny umbrella while I tried to act normal and hide the fact that I was internally panicking. After dinner, the manager invited us to the 11th floor for “complimentary drinks,” which immediately gave away that something suspicious was happening. When the elevator opened, the floor was candlelit with an incredible view overlooking Okinawa. It was exactly how I had imagined it. I handed a staff member my phone to record, got down on one knee, and delivered what was probably the least coherent speech of my life. I remember saying something like, “I’m indecisive about almost everything… except spending my life with you.” Naturally, we started bantering mid proposal over whether I had asked a question or not. Then we both noticed my phone leaning sideways on the floor behind the door, recording with the camera light on. Since I had requested the moment be completely private, the staff member quietly set the phone down and disappeared. The result was a blurry video where you can kind of see us, but mostly just the floor from a terrible angle. We laughed about this to the point of tears. I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.