we’re getting married!

It started like most love stories do—during a global pandemic. While the world was panicking over toilet paper, my family spent weekends at Lake Tanglewood. That summer, my sister Rachel brought her friend Rachael (yes, spelled differently—yes, it’s confusing). She was from Minnesota, the state of hockey. She went to Baylor and rooted for the Vikings. I’m from Texas, where football is the religion, Texas Tech is home, and the Cowboys are America’s team. She didn’t just root for different teams—she had opinions about mine. So naturally, we spent that summer at the lake debating everything about sports, life, and which state is better. (The answer is Texas) The back-and-forth never stopped, but underneath all the friendly trash talk, something else started to happen. We didn’t agree on much then, but we kept wanting to talk. Kept wanting to be around each other. Somewhere between the sarcasm and side-eyes, I realized—I liked this girl. A lot. At the end of the summer, I decided to shoot my shot. I asked her on a date and even invited her dog, Indigo, for good measure. Her response? No… I went back to Lubbock a little dejected. There were a few texts, a couple of Snapchats, some left on read. But it was something. Fast forward to summer 2021—she was back at the lake. There were more late-night Ranger rides, White Claws and High Noons, and more of me thinking, This is my year. One weekend, I went to Dallas to visit my sister—and, let’s be honest, maybe Rachael too. We ended up at a bar called Green Room, hanging out and having a good time… until I saw her flirting with some guy. Did I casually insert myself into the conversation? Yes. Was it the right thing to do? Nope. And for that, I was rewarded with the greatest breakup text of all time… from someone I’d never dated: “I only see us as friends. Nothing more.” Any normal guy might’ve called it quits. Moved on. Cut his losses. But not me. Somewhere deep in my delusional brain, I just knew. I spent the entire drive back to Lubbock thinking, That’s the girl I’m going to end up with. I couldn’t explain it—I just knew. Challenge accepted. So I did what any completely rational, not-at-all-impulsive person would do: I started planning to move to Dallas. Sure, it made some sense. I was ready to leave Lubbock and the job at Tech behind. But if I’m being honest, Rachael was the reason—or at least a very big part of it. If I was going to move, why not to where she was. So, in the fall of 2021, I moved. I was finally in the same city. The opportunity was there. Did I make a move? Not a single one. But then, in January 2022, Rachael mentioned she was buying a house and asked if I’d help her fix it up. I saw a tiny opening—maybe this was the moment. She closed on the home that May. I thought I’d be helping with a few easy projects. But if you know Rachael, you know she goes all in when she has a vision. What followed wasn’t a weekend favor—it was a full-blown renovation. We demoed the fireplace. Installed a new one. Painted, repainted, and painted again because the store gave us the wrong color. Swapped outlets. Installed lights. Tiled bathrooms. I learned the difference between “white” and “off-white” the hard way. And still... I didn’t make a move. But something was shifting. I wasn’t just Rachel’s brother anymore. I wasn’t just the funny guy from the lake. Maybe—I was starting to be the guy. By early 2023, I finally asked her out. And in August of 2023—three years after I first met her—we officially became a couple. A few months later, guess who said “I love you” first? If you guessed me—the guy who waited three years, moved cities, and remodeled an entire house for just a chance—you’d be wrong. It was her. The same girl who once sent me a certified relationship death sentence by text. But you’ve seen the movies. You know how this ends. The guy gets the girl.