We allegedly met in London in 2019 at a dinner party hosted by a mutual friend. David remembers the evening vividly - wine flowing, candles flickering, Emerson laughing at his jokes (or maybe at him) - a moment destined to be the prologue of their love story. Emerson, however, recalls no such meeting. Not even a flicker. Which is either a testament to his ability to compartmentalize or to the truly forgettable nature of David’s banter that night. Still, fate - or international flight routes - kept tossing them back into each other’s lives. London to New York, back to London, the occasional transatlantic DM. For a while, they both let the distance be the grown-up reason things didn’t progress... But eventually, the gravitational pull was too strong, the excuses too flimsy, and they thought, “You know what? Let’s actually do this.” So they did. And here you are, reading this, because it worked.