I joined the group gathering outside of The Commons for Trotters, a weekly run club on the Swamp Rabbit Trail, and immediately noticed a strikingly handsome man I had never seen before. This guy was one particularly FINE specimen of a human being: his wavy, dark ginger hair, side-parted and tightly cut, gave off classic 1940’s vibes. He had a kind smile, and he wore a Reformed University Fellowship Wofford t-shirt. He stood alone, self-assured and a bit aloof, until I heard, “Oh hey, Osborne!” My friends Carter and Stella had just arrived. (“You know this man?!” I thought. “What an in!”) We exchanged introductions; Carter and Osborne knew each other from a gap-year internship they had both done, and Osborne had just moved back home after living in DC for several years. After the group 5K run, I texted Carter and Stella while in the beer line, asking them to invite Osborne to sit with us, and for any dating beta Carter might have on whether this guy was single. They didn’t see that message in time, because they certainly made no leads for me. So that night I followed Osborne on Strava, a social media platform for athletes (naturally). The next day at work, Stella also told me I was staring him down and needed to back off. I ran into Osborne a couple more times in the next month; we exchanged some pleasantries, and I played it cool. A few months later, Osborne followed me on Instagram. Several more months passed, and by the springtime, I was at a point in my singleness where waiting to be asked on a date felt unnecessary. If there was a man who appeared to be a quality person, I could reach out. Osborne seemed like a good prospect. I determined that if Osborne shared an Instagram story, I would respond to it. A couple weeks later he posted about working the Mountain Goat Belgian waffle trailer at the Travelers Rest Farmers Market, which he had helped build out and convert to a food truck. I had already been corresponding with the Mountain Goat manager about employing some Mill Village students, and I replied telling Osborne as much. I messaged that it was also surprising we didn’t see each other at Mountain Goat, since it’s unofficially my work-remote office. I go with my laptop for mid-morning coffee; he goes for trivia and beer in the evening. Then I drafted the moment-of-truth message and amped myself up: “I’m also curious about you and would like to get to know you better. Are you single? I can change up my Mountain Goat rhythm if you’d be down to meet for a beer sometime.” (“This is it, Jessica. You gonna do this?! You can do this.”) Heart hammering, I clicked send. His response: “I’d love that; let’s do it!” Praise. God. The next week, Osborne called the night before to make sure we were still on. When I walked into Mountain Goat on Monday, he was already at a table with the tab open. I got a stout, and time became a blurry vortex. We dove into shared values and interests: our families, being the oldest sibling, church involvement, working purposefully, Wendell Berry, travel, and learning. Osborne asked if I wanted another beer. I hesitated. I was having a great time, but I’m also a lightweight who’d had a heavy beer on an empty stomach. “How about a kombucha?” Easy conversation continued for another hour, until I found myself at a point past tipsy… “Osborne, I need food.” “Let’s get dinner!” When we were closing out, I realized my kombucha was actually a HARD kombucha, so that explained my lightheadedness. We ate some crackers, bided our time by checking out the waffle trailer, and drove over to Hampton Station. “Did we just make the classic ‘all Greenville restaurants are closed on Monday’ mistake?” Sure did… We ended up stopping by the cash-only Mexican food truck near my house and eating on my back deck. We played on the swing I had just installed under the oak tree. We danced on the patio. We kissed under the twinkle lights. And I felt the first hint of home in the man I’ve longed for all my life.

We met at a local run club, that part I agree with, but the story diverges quickly thereafter. While we briefly met that night at the Commons, the encounter was definitely in passing and I was not on the dating market. Nevertheless, as a fellow active Greenvillian who likes to do cool things, I remembered Jessica and enjoyed our conversations in passing over the next few months. She was working at one of the Ville 2 Ville waystations that year, and we had a chance to talk there while we waited for Johnny to climb the Saluda watershed (I am always game for Johnny to run up that hill and I’ll take it going back down). Several months later, I was happily enjoying the bachelor life filled with adventures like helping to restore and operate a horse trailer-turned-food truck for Mountain Goat. On the first Saturday with the Travelers Rest Farmers Market, I posted a story to get the word out about my whereabouts every Saturday from 6am to mid-afternoon. Hardly a margin for a healthy dating life, but the most fulfilling job I’ve ever had. Jessica responded to that with a message that has been debated many times since, but I read it as someone interested in potentially using the trailer to employ some of her students. I briefly knew about Mill Village and liked the hands-on nature of the work, so I was hopeful to collaborate on something like that. While I acknowledge that I would lose this decision in a jury of my peers, I still hold that at the time I had no clue that she thought it was a date. Based on what I knew about Jessica, I wanted there to be a date at some point, but I certainly didn’t think this was it. That ambiguity threw a wrench in my well-calibrated date routine: call ahead of time, offer to pick the girl up, and snag the check at the end of the night. Faced with this challenge, I spent more time than I’ll admit scheming about the right way to play along. “Well, you can’t pick her up because if it’s not a date then that’s super weird. Could definitely give off strange vibes.” “And if it’s not a date, would she think it's strange that I try to pay? Maybe, but I should still make the effort if I’m already not picking her up... I know! What if I get there early, open up a tab, and take a swig of my IPA to make it look like I’ve been there for a bit and am super casual. There you go, Osborne, that’s a good plan.” Jessica showed up and I somehow looked suave for the first time in my life. We had a lovely conversation and I quickly knew that her joyful demeanor, whimsical sense of adventure, and deep rootedness to Greenville were things that I found incredibly attractive. Over the next year, we had the chance to explore depths of what it means to live in community, to care for the city and land with which we have been entrusted, to love our neighbors, and above all to rest in the joy we have in Jesus Christ. I am grateful to our family, friends, and broader community for being a part of our dating story, and I eagerly await each of you joining in the story of our marriage. We can’t wait to welcome you to Charleston on September 23!