It happened in New York. Two writers, looking for romance, tried to find love on a crowded dating website, in a city known for its unforgiving dating scene. In true New York fashion, the first date was cancelled (for which Lauren has apologized). They rescheduled for two days later, and soon, they were sitting at a dive bar in Crown Heights. Naturally, Lauren walked two miles there from Bushwick and showed up a little sweaty, but Joe didn't seem to mind: they were soon discussing self-care and gentrification and therapists and hometowns (you know, casual first date conversation). Joe fell in love listening to Lauren describe a strange bite on her arm, wondering aloud if "New York mosquitos are different than Minnesota mosquitos." Lauren began falling in love when she played "F**king Problems" on Spotify, and was enthralled that he, too, could rap the entire song. The rest is history. Well. Not quite. Joe moved to Spain. Lauren visited. Joe moved to Colorado, and Lauren—in a true sign of love—left behind her beloved city and joined him.

They knew they wanted to get married. Joe almost proposed in Paris. He almost proposed in Bilbao. But it didn't seem right. He wanted a joint decision, a resolution between the two of them. So when Lauren started sending him Etsy engagement rings, he figured she might be on board. They went to the Crimson Room after a happy hour at Watercourse—well, actually, they missed happy hour by two minutes and had to pay full price for their cocktails and vegan nachos. They brought their own rings: Joe, his mother's, resized to fit his own finger; Lauren, one she'd ordered on an online boutique. They each wrote their own proposals. They both popped the question, only interrupted once by the waiter. They both said "yes."