As Shannon tells it... The funny thing is, Andy and I never go out. Ever. Yet somehow, one night, we both ended up out with different friend groups connected by some mutual friends—shoutout to Jeremy and Adrian for their matchmaking services. I was out with Colleen and Jeremy for some bar hopping around Salt Lake City. When Jeremy realized some of his "online gaming" friends were close by, he messaged them. They offered to pick us up and take us to the next bar with them. I jumped into the backseat so enthusiastically that I nearly sat on the lap of a guy I didn't notice was already there. That guy was Andy. After apologizing approximately 47 times, I spent the rest of the night admiring him from a safe distance and contributing roughly four words to the conversation. The Uber ride home, however, was a different story. Jeremy endured a full interrogation about "that one guy" and "what his deal was." The next day, he worked his magic and arranged a group hangout the following weekend, which just happened to be my birthday. We got to Gracie's early so Jeremy could calm my nerves with an AMF (or two). Eventually, Andy arrived with his wingman, Adrian, and conversation came surprisingly easy—whether it was debating curling's status as the greatest Olympic sport ever or agreeing that Jameson Black Barrel is the best whiskey. The real green flag? Andy agreed to match me shot-for-shot all night. I was raised Irish. Andy has the "Asian flush" disease. In hindsight, this was either very brave or very foolish. What impressed me most, though, was how closely he listened. Because when he picked me up for our first actual date the next weekend, he didn't bring flowers. He brought a bottle of Jameson Black Barrel. At that point, he didn't really have a choice—I was already sold.