We didn’t meet in a magical, quintessential rom-com kind of way. There was no coffee shop moment where our eyes met over identical, milky espresso orders. We didn’t reach for the same book in a quiet library while sparks flew, and we shared our hot takes about the protagonist. We didn’t have a slow-burn, friends-to-lovers beginning worthy of a Nancy Meyers montage. It was simpler than that. Just him and me meeting at a local pizza parlor after we both swiped right on a dating app. Statistically, not exactly the origin story built for finding your forever person. And yet, somehow, here we are. Because what makes it magical was never how we met — it’s that it’s us. Him and me. From the very beginning, there was this undeniable electricity toward one another, like we had somehow skipped the awkward uncertainty and landed directly in something steady, familiar, and durable. Over the last four and a half years, that feeling has only deepened. During our first year together, we spent every weekend driving 3.5 hours back and forth just to be together. Every week, we white-knuckled our way through the monotony of work and school until Friday finally came and life had color again. Year two brought Chandler moving to Panama City to be with me. Year three brought another move to Tampa so I could continue what can only be described as my Academic Tour de Florida. Through every transition, every uncertain season, every goodbye in a parking lot and reunion hug afterward, we kept choosing each other. Then came year four, and a drive through the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. We wound the curves of the mountain roads with James Taylor and Allen Stone playing softly through the speakers, surrounded by hazy blue mountains and fiery orange-red trees. Somewhere in the quiet glow of that moment — after years of building this beautiful life together — Chandler got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. Well… in some words. And the truth is, I would choose this story — our story — over every perfect movie romance in the world. Because at the center of it all, it has always been us. Him and me. Forever and ever.

We started off as just a quick dinner date, knowing one of us was already moving three hours away to Panama City. Most people probably wouldn’t want to give something like that a chance, but after talking nonstop for weeks, it just felt right. Emma showed some serious guts driving out to a place in the middle of nowhere: High Springs. Past all the cows, open fields, and up a steep driveway, she somehow found her way to my doorstep. After a night full of laughs and slightly above-average pizza, I think both of us were hooked. I went from never wanting anything to do with a long-distance relationship to driving 3+ hours through time zones with a smile on my face. After a year of switching off on the drive, we finally decided to move in together. We had to learn how to live with each other and how we really functioned day to day. I also brought along a fur son, Charlie — floppy ears and two brain cells constantly fighting for control. He now loves Emma nearly as much as he loves me, and of course, he listens to her better too. A year later, we moved to Tampa together on two hours of sleep and way too many energy drinks, but somehow we made it. After getting settled and building our life here, we adopted our cat, Indi, together. At that point, I figured we made a pretty good team, so I decided it was time to start planning. We went to visit family in the Smoky Mountains, and I figured I probably wasn’t going to find a better view than that. We wound our way up the mountain with a few stressful moments (for me at least), but at the final overlook, with the mountains stretched out in front of us, I found my spot. I got down on one knee and may or may not have forgotten to directly ask her to marry me, but that didn’t change the speed and velocity at which Emma extended her hand to accept the ring.

Welcome to the testament of our love and commitment. We’re so happy you’re here.