The first time I heard the name Ryan Hilla was on Saturday, Jan 25, 2020. I was celebrating Robert Burns Day (as one does) and Brendan, a childhood friend, offered to set me up with an old frat brother of his. I readily agreed after seeing his instagram (I mean those eyes, that hair?!). However, the universe had other plans, and the world would soon shut down before I'd even get his number. Over the course of the next five months I would occasionally check back in with Brendan, who would sporadically answer anywhere from one hour to three weeks later, always promising he'd connect us, with zero results. I'd started to think, eh, maybe this guy just isn't interested. Little did I know, Ryan was also following up with his old frat brother about that blonde girl he'd sent a photo of back in January. Finally, come July, we would connect. Outdoor dining had just opened up and Ryan made his way from Brooklyn to meet me for apps and drinks at Carpe Diem, an casual Irish pub in Hoboken. We talked for hours about our shared loved of Tarantino movies, Lil Dicky freestyles, and all things Harry Potter and after about two bottles of wine, I realized it was entirely possible this could be my last first date. Just as Ryan paid the bill, an array of fireworks exploded over the Hudson, solidifying the fact that this was no ordinary night. Once I had gotten home, I texted my cousins that I thought I'd met the one, I'd find out later he'd told his roommate the same. Who would have known we'd end up being right?