I first told Peter I loved him the spring of 2017. It was in an acting class, a class I was taking to overcome my fear of being seen. The exercise was to try to make the person near you react to what you said—while also maintaining your own stoic face. And is there a better thing to tell a stranger than, “I love you?” He wasn’t a complete stranger. We both sat in the back of the small theater during class, two upperclassmen aloof from the freshmen and sophomore peasants. I remember going back to my dorm that day, proud of myself for saying those words while looking into his beautiful blue eyes—words that I could barely say to myself—and words that I was terrified to ever say to someone else. We started dating before we even went on a date. I didn’t know that he was thinking about me for nearly 8 months. Then, in early June, he sat down in front of me at Leo’s and bluntly asked if he was giving me mixed signals. In all honesty, I told him, I had received no signals. Peter was, for the last few years, a friend and a man I admired. I thought many times: “This is the kind of man I would want to marry.” But that was all. “Not yet,” I told him. “Let’s see how the summer goes.” But just two weeks after the mixed signals were unmixed, we found ourselves in the basement of his house, ankle-deep in the sewer water, much too close to deny that we should wait until the end of the summer. I don’t think most normal people would define that as a first date, but it definitely helped us figure out what we wanted. Peter is smart and gentle. He is also stubborn and brash. We’re similar in many ways, but different enough to balance each other out. I love you, Peter. Let’s build a life together.