Our Story
The Meet Cute
MARGARET'S VERSION
How did I meet my future husband? Let me set the scene: October 19th, 2013. Louisville, KY. Don Haas’ 30th birthday party. I was 29 years old, not terribly lucky in love, but very fashionable in my pleather leggings and teal infinity scarf. I spent the night celebrating with friends, eating cookie cake, and chatting briefly with a tall, handsome, funny guy for approximately 10 minutes. 10 minutes that would change both of our lives forever. After the party, I asked Don and Maura (my Xavier bffs, John’s law school buddies) to tell me more about this “John” guy I had met. They spoke of his kindness, his humor, his intelligence, and how one time at trivia he knew all the answers to an opera category. I was quite intrigued—and, it turns out, we were both quite single.
The Meet Cute
JOHN'S VERSION
I saw her for the very first time standing across the room from me at a birthday party. My dear friend (and as I would come to discover, OUR dear friend), Don Haas was celebrating his 30th in Louisville. The first time I saw her she was standing in a doorway and talking to some friends. A few quick jokes later we found ourselves in a whole conversation. We only spoke for a few minutes and, contrary to all the movie moments with sparks flying and time standing still, it wasn’t that different from many other moments during a day… and yet… it was memorable.
The Setup
MARGARET'S VERSION
So Don, Maura, and I set out to throw a party in Louisville where the stakes would be low, but the matchmaking opportunity would be high. Date chosen: March 15, 2014. If you’re not a Kentucky resident, know this: St. Patrick’s Day celebrations in Louisville are rivaled only by Chicago and the Emerald Isle itself, with a big parade, plenty of bar-hopping, and general city-wide rowdiness. John was both invited to attend and blissfully unaware of the setup, so he spent the day watching basketball and imbibing in the finest Irish-ish beverages all around town, not showing up to the afternoon party til well past 8pm. And in a fine state of… let’s call it jubilation. But despite the circumstances, the spark was there. John and I ended up in the kitchen, sliding into a fun and easy conversation that lasted for hours. At the end of the night, numbers were exchanged, and our great love story began. Well, sort of.
The Setup
JOHN'S VERSION
When I saw her again a few months later, at another party, the two of us ended up talking in the kitchen for hours. Not the easiest thing in the world for me with someone I’ve just met, but as I would find out, and as anyone who’s known her can attest, Margaret is friendly, warm, kind, and as easy to talk to as anyone you could ever hope to meet.
The Date Night(s)
MARGARET'S VERSION
We both knew that dating long-distance wasn’t for the weak, and it took us a few months to actually go out. But once we started spending time together, the connection was immediate—building quicker and deeper than I think either of us imagined. We settled into a routine of visiting each other on the weekends (sometimes even meeting up in between, in the picturesque fast-food mecca of Carrollton, KY), and experienced a bevy of firsts together: from first date to first road trip; from meeting each other’s parents to getting to know each other’s friends; from growing a beard (Johnny) to learning to enjoying UofL sports (me). Through all the firsts, we fell in love. And it was, and is, incredibly easy to fall for Johnny. I fell for his big heart, his quick-witted brain, his adorable smile (that dimple!), his ability to make me laugh louder and longer than anyone else, his loyalty to his (wonderful) friends and (incredible) family, his curiosity about the world around him, his patience of my world-famous tardiness, and our shared appreciation for literature, movies, theater, and so much music, from classical to indie rock to 90s alt/grunge deep cuts (Alice in Chains 4ever!).
The Date Night(s)
JOHN'S VERSION
Those conversations continued for a few weeks. They were fantastic. I thought she was attractive, and sweet, and funny. And I guess she thought I was funny. What more do two people need to end up on a first date? We had that first date, at the now-defunct Rookwood Bar and Restaurant in Mt. Adams, overlooking downtown Cincinnati. Then we had another. And another. And another. Each better than the one before. As easy as it is to see that she is kind and engaging, it’s even more remarkable to learn over time that she’s unceasingly creative, unquestionably brilliant, and unquestionably, authentically herself at all times. After a month I was in awe of her. I still am. During those next few years, we spent weekends visiting each other. We went on vacations together. We met each other’s families. We continued to live about a hundred miles apart.
The Cohabitation
MARGARET'S VERSION
By 2018, we couldn’t deny how difficult the distance had gotten—and how much we missed each other during the weeks apart. That summer, John took the leap and moved across the river, sacrificing his home state (and some of his sanity) to get certified to practice law yet again, this time in Ohio. And thus, our cohabitation adventure began. Adjusting to feline roommates! Piling books on every square inch of semi-available shelving, crowded side tables, and open floor space! Immediately upgrading our flat screen TV from computer-monitor-sized to moderately large! And then, 2020 hit. For me, pandemic worries were compounded by a coincidentally difficult time for my family’s health. With zero hesitation, John stepped up, showing the depth of his character and helping us all with steady, constant care—from driving to Indy every weekend to running errands so I could stay germ-free to cooking endless comfort food recipes. I couldn’t have gotten through those years without him. It speaks to John’s love and support that I’m able to recall so many moments of small, perfect joys amidst it all, as Netflix binges, Scrabble sessions, and park walking adventures brought us closer, even during the lockdown.
The Cohabitation
JOHN'S VERSION
Finally, it was decided we could probably live in the same city without jeopardizing the good thing we had going. As an attorney, I could move, but I had to be admitted all over again to the state bar of wherever we were going to live. Successfully working at an ad agency, she could have had a job anywhere in the country. Heck, a few other countries too. As it turned out, this timing coincided with her being offered a promotion within her company. She would take the job, and we would stay close to our families and friends by living in Cincinnati. I closed my law practice, said a few goodbyes, and left the only hometown I’d ever known (I don’t want to sound dramatic; I can still be at Cardinal Stadium in 90 minutes.). Roughly one year later, we could have been anywhere in the country because, as it turned out, we were going to be shut in at home just like everyone else for the next year. I feel like everyone learned a lot about themselves during that time. Anyone who lived through it with anyone else learned a whole, whole lot about that person as well. She showed herself to be infinitely patient, compassionate in her desire to care for others, and a constant source of comfort while otherwise isolated from friends and family for months at a time.
The Ever After
MARGARET'S VERSION
By 2023, we were ready for a bit more room—and a house to call our own. We moved down the block into a 150-year-old historical beauty, whose quirks reveal themselves to us more every day. And we started making plans to get engaged, including designing a custom ring using a 100-year-old Russo family diamond that had never been set or worn. After a beautiful engagement on July 12, 2024 (Johnny, ya nailed it with champagne at home, Red Feather for dinner, and Aglamesis ice cream after!), we’re ready to join in wedded bliss and celebrate in a most epic fashion with you all this November. The best part? Our love story is just beginning.* What a gift. What a guy. What a St. Patrick’s Day party I’m so glad we planned. And what a life we now get to live—together. *What’s that you say? It’s been 11 years already?! Ah yes, but what tremendous years they have been. And what tremendous years that are, without a doubt, still to come.
The Ever After
JOHN'S VERSION
After debating a number of scenarios of how exactly I would propose (each of which would have supremely embarrassed her), I finally asked her one Friday evening, in the home that we now owned together. I had made reservations for dinner and when she came down the stairs, there I was, ring in hand. We called our parents and then went out to our favorite restaurant: the late, great Red Feather Kitchen. In over eleven years, this love has outlasted that old restaurant from our first date, the restaurant from our engagement celebration, the pandemic lockdown that cemented us together, and even that job that kept us in Cincinnati. It has, I’m sorry to say, outlasted a number of loved ones that we dearly wish could be a part of this celebration. I don’t know what I did right to find her looking back at me from across the garage at that party. I don’t know what exactly it was that kept pulling us together despite 100 miles of river between us at the outset. I sure as heck don’t know what it is she sees in an old fuddy-duddy like me that’s held together this long and is finally propelling us toward the promise of spending the rest of our lives together. But I know this: I love her more every day. She finds new ways to surprise me, to make me laugh, and to stop me dead in my tracks with the awesome force of nothing but her existence. And so now, I finally get to say before God and everybody what I’ve known to be true for all this time: I love you, Midge… now, and forever.