We met in Washington, D.C. in 2017 during the NFL playoffs—a night that neither of us expected to become the beginning of our forever. Nick walked in looking like a leading man: sharply dressed, confident, the kind of guy who could turn heads without even trying. And then there was me. I showed up hungover, wearing a Carolina Panthers jersey (even though the Panthers were nowhere near the playoffs) and holding a Gatorade bottle like it was a sacred artifact keeping me alive. Somehow, despite the universe giving us two completely different vibes, we ended up next to each other at Pig Bistro. And the moment we started talking, everything else faded. We talked for hours—effortlessly, comfortably, like we were picking up a conversation we’d started in another lifetime. Nick didn’t mind the jersey. I didn’t mind that he looked like a walking catalog model. Something just fit. By the time we left to go dancing in D.C., the hangover had softened, the nerves had melted, and it genuinely felt like the city had narrowed down to just the two of us—one in fancy clothes, one in sportswear, both stumbling into something bigger than we realized. That night was messy and hilarious, but also warm, unexpected, and strangely magical. It showed us exactly who we were as a couple from the very start: a perfect balance of laughter, real connection, and the kind of love that shows up whether you’re dressed to the nines or clutching a Gatorade.