It's finally happening! Thank you for being a part of our big day.

Dear gentle reader, allow me to recount the tale of a young woman—myself, of course—who, at the tender age of 19, found herself venturing into the world of Dallas, Texas' most exclusive nightspots—places where music, revelry, and intrigue abound. Yes, dear readers, it was at such an establishment, where the young and daring gather, that I crossed paths with a most unexpected character: Isaac. Now, let it be known that Isaac, unlike most who frequent such places, is not of the "clurb" type. Indeed, a fortunate turn of events for me. For while my friends and I reveled in the dance and perhaps indulged in a sip or two of illicit spirits, I, ever the keen observer, spotted one of my friends with a drink in hand. Ever curious, I inquired as to its source, and was told it came from none other than one of her brother's companions. And what did I say? "I want one," with hopes that my friend might work a bit of charm to secure the prize. Alas, the subtlety was lost, and so, emboldened by liquid courage, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Approaching the most dashing of her brother's friends, I boldly asked for a drink myself. Smitten, he readily obliged. A meal followed, of course, the late-night kind one might indulge in after such a whimsical encounter. But the evening was far from over. Upon returning to the home of my friend, we found ourselves in the company of her brother, who—let us say—had a great deal to say. And say, and say, and say. What did I do next? I concocted a clever plan, uttering, "I think I left my coin purse in your carriage. Come with me to fetch it." And once in the carriage, while Isaac fumbled in search of this elusive purse, I revealed my true intentions: "No, silly. I simply wanted to escape from Richard so we could share a kiss." How could he resist that beguiling charm? Indeed, with a smirk—a smirk only he could pull off—we shared our first kiss. Two promenades later, on the fourth of May, 2016, it was official. The rest, as they say, is history. Ah, dear readers, the course of true love, it seems, is never a straight path—but one filled with chance meetings, clever schemes, and perhaps, just a touch of liquid courage.