If Kathleen never married Dave, we wouldn’t be here. Some would say Dave has been planning this union since he met Matt at one of Grant’s birthday pub crawls years ago, but that’s a story for another day. But the Marucheaus still played a huge role in bringing us together. Still, the timing wasn’t supposed to be right. Both of us were recently single, living in different cities and Matt was recovering from a wicked bout of shingles. We really first met during a 4th of July bash. We chatted a bit that day, before the fireworks happened – literally – as we watched from a patio in Lodo that evening, both pretending not to notice the universe’s lazy metaphor. The next day, the wedding party and friends went to a Rockies-Reds game, so we got to hang out again. We chatted about the wedding, our lives and families, while sharing nachos and margs (Mexican food is a constant for us). The conversation was so natural, easy and fun, that Matt even convinced Mimi to extend the evening to include a Shark Shot (if you want to know more, ask the Scottish guy at the wedding). During the wedding, Mimi was busy with Maid of Honor duties, but Matt tried to make sure he was visible to her, especially during the dancing, even if photographs from the wedding disagree. Following the after party, we shared our first kiss in the back of a Lyft, and we both knew that we didn’t want the weekend to end. But Mimi returned to NY, and while we discussed Matt visiting at some point, nothing was planned. We continued texting, and a few weeks later, following a failed date, Matt sent a text that said “Why are you not here?” He then looked at flights and booked a trip to NY. Following months of red-eye flights, FaceTiming, tamales and tacos, Mimi took a leap and moved to CO, to be closer to Matt and her family. Two years later, in Brooklyn at the site of their first arepa together, Matt asked Mimi to marry him. And so this story ends the same as it begins. At a wedding.