It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of hiring abilities at Chipotle must be in want of a crew member. Yes, dear reader, Chipotle is where we begin our tale. With awful dining room music and late night closes, the relationship was inevitable. Romance was practically in the air, smelling suspiciously like steak and carnitas. An interview might have been the first time Rebekah met Gabriel, but it took several more weeks before the seeds of friendship took root. This was only due to the fact that she laughed at an Office reference he made when no one else did. Romance now sounded suspiciously like Prison Mike complaining about Dementors. After several long months of talking over how desperately she wanted to quit Chipotle and him repeatedly convincing her not to leave, an offer to attend church with her arose. She’d expected him to say no. He didn’t. She’d expected that after coming once, he would say, “That was fun,” and never come again. He didn’t. In fact, he kept on attending, and Rebekah soon discovered that romance sometimes sounded like an Elevation Worship song too. She left Chipotle in mid-March. By mid-March and one day, they were officially dating. Many trips to Taco Bell followed, as well as romantic serenades of “What Does the Fox Say?” She went to an EDM concert; he went to the musical Waitress. She watched Star Wars with him; he watched Labyrinth with her. Romance now closely resembled explaining the rules of hockey. And now, dear reader, after many trips to visit parents, arguments over whether Meijer or Walmart was better, repeatedly listening to the song “Under Pressure,” eating solely garlic bread for dinner, trying (and failing) to teach Rebekah how to literally just hold a game controller correctly, and a cracked phone case after being surprised with an engagement ring, we can conclude that romance can sometimes begin with a, “Hi, I’m Gabriel Raffa, and I’m the manager here.” Reader, I married him.