It was the summer of COVID-19—when toilet paper was scarce, banana bread was abundant, and dating felt like a weird combination of dystopian sci-fi and romantic comedy. Lisa was living her best socially-distanced life in Albuquerque, New Mexico, working in the homes of families with children on the autism spectrum. With the Sandia Mountains in her backyard, her days were filled with hikes, sunshine, and absolutely zero interest in human contact. But alas, even introverts get curious. So, like many pandemic singles, Lisa turned to the wild world of dating apps. Between the endless shirtless gym selfies and “here for a good time not a long time” bios, she stumbled upon Michael—whose profile photo featured him literally on top of a mountain (a promising start), and whose location read “Manhattan.” Lisa thought, Ooh, he’s from New York!—a fun surprise! Jokes on her… he was actually from Manhattan, Kansas (yes, that’s a real place… and no, she had no clue he was military because his profile didn’t say a word about it). She swiped right anyway. Destiny? Maybe. Reckless curiosity? Also possible. What Lisa didn’t know was that Michael wasn’t even in Kansas—or New York. He was temporarily grounded in Albuquerque thanks to a broken Apache helicopter (as one does). En route to NTC for Army training, he and his crew were stuck in a hotel room in a slightly Breaking Bad part of town, killing time with Fast & Furious marathons and chatting with Tinder matches. Despite the odds—a global pandemic, no car, and a roommate sharing his room—Michael and Lisa struck up a conversation that was half flirty, half ridiculous, and fully unexpected. Eventually, they decided to meet. Now, some people’s first dates are candlelit dinners. Theirs involved: • A Walmart run (for batteries and a toothbrush), • Takeout Mexican food that was “too spicey” for Michael • Michael’s roommate tagging along, • A curbside meal outside a questionable hotel. Romance. They both call it the most awkward first date ever. And yet—there was something there. They kept talking. Then talking turned into calling. Then more texts and emails. Six months later, Michael deployed to Poland, and their connection only deepened through long texting conversations and late-night calls across time zones and care packages. A year later, they moved in together. Since then, life has been filled with all the best kinds of chaos—raising chickens, starting a business, road-tripping with their two dogs, cooking elaborate meals, fishing trips, and lots (and lots) of laughter. Somewhere between a global crisis and a Walmart battery aisle, they found home in each other. Five years later, here they are—best friends, true partners, and soon, husband and wife.