Have you ever felt something deep within your gut that told you to do something? As if you'd be kicking yourself if you didn't do what that pesky gut was telling you? That's what happened to me on May 30, 2015. I was meeting a few friends at a bar in Rahway and I arrived before everyone. I sat down at the bar, drank my classic Jack and Diet Coke, and listened to the band play behind me. A guy who claimed he was an MMA fighter with multiple bruises on his face was talking to me, but I digress. My friends finally showed up and we got a long table at the bar. I made sure I was facing the band so I could have something to look at if the conversations lulled. In between conversations, I'd glance at the lead singer and I'd turn and whisper to my friend, "Oh, he's really cute!" Next thing I knew, I was dancing right in front of him while he played "Twist and Shout" in some sort of plea to get his attention. I was shouting, "MORE COWBELL!" as he finished his amazing cowbell solo. I couldn't stop looking at him. I turned back to my friend, "How do I talk to him?" I just didn't know, but my gut was telling me that I needed to talk to him. We ended up leaving the bar and going to another when I had a brilliant idea: the tip jar. You see, the band had a tip jar in front of the stage and I knew it would be a great spot to "talk" to the lead singer. I grabbed a napkin from the new bar we were at, wrote my name ("Erin - Girl pink dress"), number, and addressed it to the "lead singer and amazing cowbell player." I borrowed a dollar from my friend, wrapped it around the napkin, and marched back to the bar where he was playing. I then sauntered to the front of the stage, flashed my dollar, and dropped it into the tip jar. "If he calls, he calls," I said as I walked back with my friends. A few days went by and I didn't hear from him until finally, my phone buzzed: "Hey Erin. It's Peter from the band you saw in Rahway." The rest is history.

It's Christmas morning 2018 and I'm battling bronchitis. I'm coughing up a lung, I sound hoarse, and I'm sniffling like no tomorrow, but no one can take away the joy that is felt on Christmas morning. Pete hands me my last present and gets his camera ready. "Make sure the label is facing you," he kept saying. Irritated, I said to him, "There is no label!" as I kept opening my present. I'm sitting there saying, "What the heck was on my Christmas list that would be in this box?" I took the bright white top off of the box to see my future inside: a napkin that had the exact same wording I used on my initial napkin I wrote to ask Peter out along with "Will you marry me?" Wheezing from my bronchitis, I started crying and became totally speechless in disbelief. "Erin? What do you say?" Peter said bringing me back to reality. "Yes!" I said.

Peter and I desperately wanted to get married on 12/12/20, so we had a private ceremony near our home in Flemington, New Jersey with our immediate family and my maid of honor. However, we wanted to be able to spend our one-year anniversary with YOU on 12/12/21. Hopefully, you will be able to put on your dancing shoes and join us as we ring in another year of being hitched to one another!