It was June 1999. They were USC underclassmen. He was pouring soda at a party. She walked up in a black dress and told him he was doing it wrong. They became fast friends. For 15 years, they dated other people. But traveled together. Went camping. Sailed. Did scavenger hunts. He helped her through breakups. She wrote MBA essays for him. Friends and family would ask, 'Why aren't you guys dating? Are you really... just friends?' The answer was always a resounding yes. Then one day, on a camping trip, she looked at him in the glow of the fire, smiled, and asked if, maybe, just maybe, they were being silly not considering each other. "Maybe we should try this dating thing?" she said. His reply was quick: "Nah! People just don't get us." Ohhhhkay then. "Yeah, you're right. Cool. Never mind." One year later, he told her that maybe he jumped the gun... maybe it's not crazy... maybe they should go on a trip... as more than friends. So they want to Costa Rica. For 5 years, they dated. She said she wanted to get married. He said he wasn't sure. Clearly, the campfire incident taught them nothing. He, as usual, needed time. There were breakups. Makeups. Ups and downs. Then, suddenly, something clicked. He realized that you only get one chance to marry your best friend. To marry "your person" - the one you've counted on for two decades. So on his birthday, she planned a small surprise dinner for him. He found out and decided to flip the script on her. She walked into her home, late as usual, arms filled with dry-cleaning and groceries, and he surprised her with a wildly sweet proposal. Almost 20 years to the day from when they first met at USC. She said, "I'll need 5 years to think about it." Just kidding. She said yes.