It started in the most modern way—through mutual friends online, two lives brushing past each other in a digital space before deciding to meet in the real world. There was excitement, of course, but also that nervous energy that comes with wondering what if this is something important? When Alex pulled up to pick me up, I was not exactly making a graceful first impression. My dog, River, had gotten into the container of worms I had planned to bring for fishing. So instead of casually waiting by the door like a normal person, I was outside—fully committed—digging through the dirt, trying to rescue what I could and salvage the situation. And that is what Alex saw first: me, crouched in the yard, hands in the soil, probably looking like I’d lost something far more valuable than fishing bait. I remember feeling a wave of embarrassment. Of all the ways to meet someone you think is incredibly handsome, this had to be one of the worst. I wanted to explain, to laugh it off, to disappear all at once. But if Alex thought it was strange, he didn’t show it. Later, he’d tell me his first impression was that I was gorgeous—and quirky. Somehow, that moment I thought had ruined everything became part of the charm. We did eventually set out to go fishing… but the day had other plans. Instead of casting lines into the water, we spent hours driving around, with no real destination. The kind of aimless wandering that only works when the company is exactly right. Music filled the car, conversations flowed effortlessly, and time seemed to stretch and blur in the best way. At one point, Alex turned up Man! I Feel Like a Woman! by Shania Twain and absolutely belted it out—no hesitation, no embarrassment, just pure, joyful confidence. It was unexpected and hilarious and somehow made everything feel even more comfortable, like we had skipped past the awkward stage entirely. We talked about everything and nothing, the kind of nonstop conversation where you don’t notice how late it’s getting until suddenly it’s very late. Eventually, reality caught up with us, and Alex had to take me home. But by then, something had already settled into place—something easy and genuine. What started as a slightly chaotic, dirt-covered first impression turned into a day neither of us wanted to end. Looking back, it feels fitting. Our story didn’t begin perfectly—it began honestly. With a mischievous dog, a handful of worms, a lot of laughter, and a car ride that never really needed a destination. And somehow, that made it perfect.

I woke up at 5am, already wide awake from nerves, and told her we were going on a “short hike.” She agreed—but she totally knew something was up. I didn’t say anything. I just played it off. Before we left, I reached into my car door and grabbed the ring box, making sure she didn’t see. My heart was racing the whole time. I was nervous as hell, trying to act normal while knowing exactly what I was about to do. We drove out to the Ice Age Trail—the same hill where we first said “I love you.” As we started hiking, reality really set in. Every step closer made it feel more real, and I could feel the nerves building. When we got to the spot, we sat down to recreate the same photo from that day. On the outside, it probably looked like just another moment—but in my head it was just: GO TIME. I told her to turn around. I dropped to one knee, asked her to marry me—and she hit me with, “Duh.” She knew. I knew she knew. And somehow, that made it even more perfect.