One weekend in the fall of 2016, I drove to Chappaqua to visit my college roommate and longtime romance advisor, the infamous Nell Sherman. Naturally, shortly into our visit the conversation turned to boys and Nell assured me that she had my future all in hand, she already knew exactly who I was going to marry and had set a plan in motion. All I needed to do was wait for a text from some guy who was moving to Boston. All I knew about him was that he had been living in Uganda for a year and was the prom king to Nell’s prom queen. I returned to Boston and after a few weeks with no word from the prom king I assumed he had moved on to greener pastures or met a homecoming queen on the streets of Southie. Much to my surprise, he resurfaced sometime in early October and we made plans for an ambiguously timed meet up (Was it drinks? Was it dinner?) at Loco Taqueria. From there the rest was history, he was charming, goofy and easy to talk to. We spent many more evenings at Loco Taqueria, met each other’s friends and families, traveled to other continents and eventually drove a U-Haul of all our belongings (except Joe's shoes) to Chicago. We survived a year crammed in our apartment together watching Netflix and one snowy Saturday morning Joe delivered a bag of donuts with a sparkly surprise inside. And now, almost six years after that fateful night at Loco, I’ll finally get to find out what it feels like to marry royalty.

Nervous for my first ‘blind date’, I drank a bud light on the couch of my new apartment and consulted my friend Jamie for potential conversation topics. My disdain for Boston sports teams? The weather? Needless to say, when Nell’s friend walked in to Loco Tacqueria and introduced herself as Colleen, it all made sense. We talked for hours about our love of traveling and destinations we longed to visit, climate change, and our experiences living in Boston. She had an amazing sense of humor, a sparkle in her eye, and an insatiable curiosity. Many margaritas, tacos, marathon runs, guitar and violin duets, bike rides, and weekend trips later, our Boston adventures quickly turned into our Chicago adventures. Three years later, there was no doubt in my mind - Colleen was the one. While you can’t usually get anything past her (I’ve often told her she should audition for the CIA), I was determined to keep our impending engagement a secret. A false lead on a shopping expedition with my dad, a sneaky FedEx package delivery, and a tiny box in a hidden jacket pocket, I had her. In classic fashion, I had to put my proposal plans for the following Saturday on hold, after learning that Colleen had volunteered for a mussel hunting expedition in the Chicago River (wish I was joking). Finally the day arrived, walking down the street at 6:30AM from Firecakes donuts back to our apartment, I was confident that there could be nothing sweeter. For some crazy reason, she said yes. Let’s just hope that there isn’t an eel counting expedition on September 4th.