In late 2017, Hannah, the green-eyed beauty and pride of the Garden State, and Jesse, the debonaire hunk with the million-dollar smile (love the third-person) from the mean streets of the Upper West Side, matched on the “relationship app”, Hinge. His profile picture featured an adorable puppy (aww, so cute!). Familiar with the tactic, she asked if the dog was actually his – be careful, there really are people who would use puppy pictures just to get dates. Of course, she was right, and Jesse was one of those people. The world of online dating is a fickle and cruel place; think the bridge in Squid Game – even a slight misstep and it’s all over. With that in mind, a simple “not my dog” wasn’t going to cut it. He responded that he was a “part-time dog catcher” and she needn’t worry as “we caught him”. The absurd response worked. Just imagine Jesse running around with a giant net chasing after harmless puppies. Take my word for it, it’s a humorous visual. But I digress. From there, he managed to get her number, or “the digits” as the kids (boomers?) might say, to communicate off-app – a critical milestone. As the end of the year approached, they continued chatting and tried to coordinate a first date. At Ralph Lauren at the time, she was busy with holiday parties and the like (thanks a lot, Lifshitz!) and he was about to leave for Asia for a month heading to Vietnam with his boys, Alex and Jon (epic, thanks for asking), and then to Singapore for his MBA program (shoutout NYU Stern). Still interested, he messaged her upon his return stateside, referencing all he had missed out on while he was away – namely, Stormy Daniels and the Bomb Cyclone. Crickets. Not because it wasn’t funny, of course it was. But, alas, because the moment had passed and ‘twas not to be. Timing is everything.

For both, the next year and a half would be characterized by various states of solitude, misery, and often both. All hope seemed lost as they searched, nay, yearned, for their beshert as the Jews say, destino in Portuguese, and noodlot to the Dutch. Now you might think that nothing good ever happens on the Long Island Railroad, that it’s just a packed commuter train filled with drunks and worse yet, Long Islanders. And you’d be almost entirely correct. For on this day, returning from the beach on the LIRR with one of his oldest buddies, Jake and Jake’s then-girlfriend-now-wife Staci, something most excellent indeed did happen. Staci, ever the matchmaker, wanted to set single Jesse up with one of her friends. She showed him, a man of utmost taste and discernment, pictures of several prospects. He shook his head, “no” they wouldn’t do, sorry ladies. And then, there, right there on the iPhone screen, there she was. A face he couldn’t possibly forget, the pretty girl from Hinge he had matched with so many moons ago, was in fact Staci’s sorority sister (Chi Omega 4 lyfe). Why, yes, of course, he would like to go out with her! Hannah, having just gotten out of a thing, was open to it too. Timing is everything.

They spoke, via text as sane millennials pre-first date communicate, and arranged that long overdue first date. Meticulously selected, they would go to an Alphabet City watering hole, Maiden Lane, for their maiden voyage (they can’t all be winners). It was a Wednesday night. As Deb on Yelp said of Maiden, “I wasn’t a fan of the loudness and some flies buzzing around the un-bussed table next to us”. He was punctual, she was not. He was sober, she was not. Though he could not forget her face, she had managed to forget his. In fact, she had no recollection whatsoever of their prior interaction. Ouch. Brushing off the ego-check, they went on to have a lovely evening. Ever the gentleman, he walked her home and there, outside the vestibule of the second set of doors, it was Avenue B after all, they shared their first kiss. Magic. Pure Magic. Smitten, he had to see her again. And soon. So two days later, they played hookie for their second date and went to The Cloisters and Arthur Avenue in the Bronx. For those who have been out of the dating game for some time now, I can tell you, it is unheard of to go out again only two days after your first date. It’s quite possible it had never even been attempted up until that point. But, you see, they had outgrown the games of the New York City dating casino. It was an amazing second date, even Deb would have been impressed. They learned about each other’s friends, family, and work all while procuring vast quantities of pasta and cheese. That’s amore! It was true love for the instant besties. Without exaggeration, by the end of the day, they both knew that this was it. A few weeks later they planned a trip to Argentina and Uruguay (Buenos Aires is pretty cool, skip Montevideo). When you know, you know. Two years prior they missed each other over the holidays. That year, they rang in the New Year together in Punta del Este. Timing is everything.

Nearly inseparable, by early March of 2020 the pair were living in sin, as Jesse moved into Hannah’s apartment. It was good that they seemed to enjoy spending time together as just one week later New York went into total lockdown. Talk about a test, folks. It was a dark time and pretty wack, probably a lot like your experience: deeply unsettling, at times boring, filled with board games, baking, Netflix binging, 7 PM pot-banging, dance parties, and a regrettable man-bun. But how could anything be that bad when you’re hanging out with your best friend all the time? They wondered how they would’ve survived it without each other. A highlight was the socially-distanced rooftop birthday party that Hannah threw Jesse in defiance of strict group gathering regulations. Like the scene in Shawshank, for just a moment, things almost felt normal, and then the cops broke up the party.

As the virus raged, Hannah got to spend a lot of virtual quality time with the Axelrods and was quickly nominated and confirmed as director of the family IT department, a life (sentence) appointment. The online holiday and birthday gatherings provided opportunity for practice with the mute button and camera positioning so that faces are visible. We can report progress, but there is still work to be done. Credit to Hannah, though the Israelites may have wandered the desert for 40 years following the exodus from Egypt before entering the Promised Land, they never endured a 4-hour Axelrod-family Zoom Seder. Which feat is of greater biblical proportions is cause for ongoing debate among theologians. The celebrations gave Hannah a chance to get to know Larry and Lynny’s family and friends the world over. There’s always a laugh to be had and a new tradition for Hannah to learn (don’t worry, Lynny, Hannah will get to the Jewish wedding book before the wedding). As it turns out, a 615 square foot New York City apartment is not an ideal place to ride out a multi-year global pandemic. And so, in June, the couple sought refuge and were graciously taken in by the Rubin’s to their home in Martha’s Vineyard. For the next four months they would call the carriage house home and Jesse would get to know and love the amazing Rubin family and they, in turn, would get to know and love (read: tolerate) him. Since she was a little girl, Martha’s Vineyard had always been Hannah’s happy place. For Jesse, the Semitic urbanite, it was an introduction to a new world of boating, tennis, pickle-ball with Lisa and Mitch, clamming, crabbing (sorry, Lynny), and some serious Burgundies. Not to mention bomb-ass sandwiches by Sister Allie and stiff cocktails from future Brother Chris (no pressure). Needless to say, the Vineyard, as it’s known to us regulars, became a special place for the couple.

In February of ‘21 Mitch’s dad and Hannah’s grandpa, Buddy, was in critical condition following a fall on the tennis court. The Rubin gang plus Jesse and Chris caught the first plane down to Boca to be there. With the family together for the next several weeks, Jesse decided it was the right time to ask Mitch and Lisa for permission for their daughter’s hand, as is tradition. Once granted, champagne toasts followed with Hanned included, which is non-traditional, but somehow felt appropriate. There can be no happiness without sadness, and unfortunately, Buddy passed away a few days later. May we all go out doing what we love, surrounded by family at 93! Back in New York, Jesse hatched a plan. Like an elderly couple, most days the two would go for long walks in Central Park. Channeling European tourists, he knew that’s where it would have to be. Having scoped out the perfect semi-secluded spot, he would make his move on Tuesday, 4/20. The wheels were in motion. The day before it was to go down, Hannah mentioned she was in need of a manicure and that she’d go get one on Wednesday. EMERGENCY. For those unfamiliar with the Gregorian Calendar, Wednesday is the day after Tuesday, which is the day Jesse was going to propose. No good. Jesse sprung into action and got his dear friend Anna, his best man Ben’s wife, on the phone and told her she needed to get manicures with Hannah that afternoon. Not suspecting anything was afoot, Hannah went along and the nail crisis was averted. The next day, Ben was dispatched to clear the area and lay out flower petals and hydrangeas. Quiet all day, when the afternoon rolled around and go-time approached, naturally, Hannah’s work picked up. Jesse asked her to go on their walk. She was too busy. He pleaded with her. “You’re a big boy, go for a walk yourself”. As Ben kept guard, Jesse’s butterflies turned to despair. Then, finally, Hannah agreed to a short walk for just a few minutes. Relieved, that was all he needed. Timing is everything.