Our story begins as all great love stories do…online. One of my friends and bridesmaids, Ravali, insisted I create a profile on Hinge. Hinge differs from some of the other dating apps since profiles have both pictures and self-selected prompts. For example: Prompt from my profile: Fact about me that surprises people - I still wear my retainers every night. Prompt from Patrick’s profile: Dream dinner guest - Stephen Colbert or Conan O’Brien A potential suitor could “like” a picture or prompt, which would hopefully lead to an actual conversation. Patrick “liked” the very first picture on my profile, which led me to think that he didn’t scroll through my profile and learn that I still wear my retainers every night, which in hindsight might have been a saving grace. Despite that thought, I started a conversation that ended in Patrick asking if I would like to meet up and grab a drink. We have all heard horror stories about dating, so I was a little skeptical when Patrick suggested a cocktail bar 322 feet from my apartment building. Don’t worry, my sister and Matron of Honor, Brooke, and Ravali tracked my location all night. I arrived a few minutes early and received a message from Patrick saying he would be 10 minutes late, but don’t hold that against him; I did have the advantage of a one-minute walk. I patiently waited at a table in the back and was pleasantly surprised when we met. We sat at that table for nearly five hours talking, and at the end of the night, Patrick was a real gentleman and walked me the whole 322 feet home before continuing to his place. I had a good feeling after that night, but I had no idea that I had met my future husband. Fast forward to our seventh date, when we celebrated the New Year with Ravali, and I told her Patrick was the one. Remember when I told you not to hold being late against Patrick? It’s because he was better late than never.

We arrived in Amsterdam by train on a Sunday and an hour later were walking along Prinsengracht Canal. Unbeknownst to Jewel, Brooke and Ravali had secretly flown in for a long weekend to be there for the proposal. Unbeknownst to both me and Jewel, they floated directly past us, on a tour. An inauspicious start but we did not see them and I did not need to improvise. The next morning started with a run outside. My going for a jog on vacation was the first clue to Jewel that something was amiss. I ran to Brooke and Ravali’s hotel and traded them a camera for a map their food tour guide had marked up. Sprinting along canals and over bridges, I bolstered my formidable Google Street View reconnaissance with on location scouting and my plan was set. We started with a food tour complete with the highs (stroopwafels) and lows (pickled herring) of Dutch food, followed by a boat tour of Amsterdam’s canals. As residents of Chicago, we have high standards for boat tours. This did not disappoint. We then spent the better part of an hour selecting which painting to purchase from an artist along the canal. After that long deliberation, I told Jewel I had selected the restaurant for dinner and immediately started leading her through the Jordaan district. This abrupt change in decisiveness was the second clue. As we crossed a bridge over Egelantiersgracht Canal, I asked Jewel to stop for a minute. After a speech I do not fully remember, I got down on one knee, reached for the ring, and asked her to marry me (the third clue). As I stood back up and confirmed that Jewel had indeed said yes, she began to notice the clicking of a camera and looked up to see Brooke and Ravali, who had hidden along the canal and are the reason we have so many great photos from that day. As the shock gradually wore off, we celebrated with pizza and wine. We cannot wait to continue that celebration with all of you and it will be worth the wait. Pickled herring will not be served at the reception.