As many of you know, my childhood best friend, Jill, and I reconnected later on, and even roomed together all four years of college. (Yes, we still like each other. Miracles happen.) Jill met her now-husband at Arcadia University, and after years of long-term relationships and perfectly synchronized breakups (because apparently the universe has a sense of humor), I finally had the pleasure of meeting RJ’s brother, Nicky, at their wedding. Now, picture this: me, a few gin and tonics deep—aka dangerously charming—and Nicky, newly single. Somehow, in that magical cocktail-fueled haze, we clicked instantly and talked the entire night. I don’t even remember the music. Or the food. Just him. After the wedding, I entered what can only be described as the "post-wedding waiting game"—a torturous period where I searched high and low (okay, mostly on Instagram) for any excuse to reconnect. I finally followed him, which in today’s world basically means "I’m interested and I’ve already stalked your dog." Eventually—after what felt like an eternity—he DMed me. He was hesitant at first, I suppose numerous gin and tonics don't make the best impression, but with a little encouragement from Jill, he asked me out. And from our very first date, I knew something felt different. Since then, we’ve been inseparable. What started as a drunk conversation between two strangers turned into something real—something steady, surprising, and full of the kind of laughter that makes your cheeks hurt. It still amazes me that on a day meant to celebrate someone else’s love story, mine quietly began. And I wouldn’t change a thing.