We're getting married!We're getting married!

We went on our first date at Law Bird on January 5, drawn in by the promise of very good, very funky cocktails. I was five minutes late because I stopped at Antiques on High for a quick drink first, which at the time felt both necessary and risky. When I finally made it to Law Bird, we ordered cocktails and started talking. Four hours passed. It stopped feeling like a first date pretty quickly. At some point, I asked Dave for his last name so I could look up his voting record the next day. He passed. When Law Bird closed, we weren’t ready to be done, so we walked down the street to High Beck. The lighting was worse, the drinks were simpler, and somewhere between rounds, Dave asked me on a second date. It was bold, a little premature, and completely right. At that point, it was clear this wasn’t just a good night out, but the beginning of something that would keep unfolding. And it has. — Millie

It’s important to note that Millie was not five minutes late to our first date — it was closer to ten. When I arrived at Law Bird, they had to unlock the door for me. Throughout the night, Millie periodically disappeared to the bathroom to use her inhaler between coughing fits, and I noticed that her pace walking from bar to bar was… deliberate. In hindsight, this explains how a first date accidentally turned into an all-night event. This would not be the last time timing became a theme. Millie was late to our second date. For our very romantic fourth date, an NPR speaker at a town hall, she went to the wrong location entirely, and we missed it. And then, just to really keep me on my toes, I met all of her friends at Gemüt, where they went on and on about how punctual and organized Millie is. I remember thinking, Are we talking about the same person? But here’s the thing: our first date at Law Bird absolutely flew by. We took turns ordering cocktails for each other, guessing what the other might like, and laughing more than either of us expected. When Millie suggested we walk next door to a dive bar for a PBR, I knew I had met someone I genuinely wanted to keep spending time with — inhalers, detours, and all. If anyone is wondering how I ended up so lucky, clearly punching above my weight class, my theory is that Millie started things in a bit of a deficit and decided she’d better stick around to prove herself. Thankfully, she did. So despite what you might assume from this story, here we are, getting married. At 33 and 35, better late than never. — Dave