Did you know that in order to go on dates you actually have to put forth an effort to meet new people? I mean, I knew this of course, I just didn’t like the idea very much! I am not speaking hyperbolically when I say this: I NEVER went on dates. Like most women, I served some time on various dating apps as a way to empower myself to potentially meet a future partner. But I was so tired! I had just completed my graduate level education and was working as a private practice mental health therapist, meaning that my days were spent with never ending tales of family trauma, relationship toxicity, depressive states, personality disorders, and existential crises. Not exactly a recipe for love and commitment, right? All of this paired with a ridiculously long commute to work meant that dating was relatively low on my list of priorities. That is, until I experienced my first ever “last minute cancellation.” “Hey Kayla, I’m so sorry, but I won’t be able to make it to session today. My youngest came down with a fever and I have to pick her up from school early.” This was the message that, in hindsight, led to some of the happiest experiences of my life. It’s the reason I’m engaged now! Odd, I know. But let me explain. It was this last minute cancellation that forced me to figure out a way to pass this newly free hour of my time. As my fellow train commuters may know, you can’t just leave the office when you’re ready to go home. That, my friends, is a luxury that I could not afford. No, my time was dictated by previously determined train schedules, meaning that I would go home when the BNSF commuter line was good and ready to take me. After checking the schedule, I learned that I had about 45 minutes to kill before I could make my way to the station. It was then when I did what any self-respecting, slightly irritable individual might do; I opened up my Hinge ("the app meant to be deleted"). I had not opened up that silly little dating app for about two months. “It’s high time I cleaned up this dumb profile of mine,” I thought to myself begrudgingly. I began by going through the profiles of others who had already “swiped right” on me (because I’m vain, obviously). It didn’t take me long before Hinge queued up the profile of my future wife. Simrin. “Hmmm, beautiful name.” That was the first thought I had. I began reading her prompts. “Interests Include Lord of the Rings, Soccer, and Metal Music.” So she’s got range, I like that. As I began to familiarize myself with her responses, I felt something that I could only describe as complete and utter certainty. This is a feeling that tends to come in random, almost rogue-like, waves. I like to think of it as the Universes’ way of saying “take that leap, I promise you won’t be sorry.” I confirmed our match one minute later, packed up my tote bag, turned off my office light, and embarked on my 15 minute walking journey to the train station. As I sat down in my typical single seater on my 4:17pm train, all previous signs or irritation having melted away, I felt a buzz on my phone indicating a notification. Hinge: Simrin sent you a message. "Hi! How's your day going so far?" After having read this woman's message, I did something that I had never once done before on Hinge. I responded.

Cold. Blistering winds. A touch of frost. Anemic hands. Leaving the house in April, deep in the heart of Chicago, is not for the faint of heart. Yet that is exactly what I did. I stepped out of my Lincoln Park apartment, getting on the brown line to go to the loop - specifically, the Drawing Room at the Chicago Athletic Association (don't let the name fool you, it's a rustic, charming building from the 1890's filled with wooden paneling and warm fireplaces). Seemingly, I got there first, so of course I leaned against the building, standing outside in the cold, not wanting to take the chance that she would walk in and be confused about where to go. I glanced at my phone, checking our messages over Hinge, making sure I had the time and date right. I only had to wait a few minutes until I saw her walking towards the entrance, bright blue coat and black boots strutting towards me with such confidence. I had to do a double take because somehow she was even more beautiful than she was in her Hinge pictures and I absolutely panicked. We introduced ourselves and I, ever the romantic, made sure to give her a good, firm, UT Austin-business-school-approved handshake. It was 2pm, right when they opened, when we went upstairs to the Drawing Room where we sat ourselves in a small high table off to the side. We sat down, got fries and water, and immediately we were contained in a bubble of back and forth conversation, questions thrown and answered with laughs and smiles - some too surface level to remember, others too deep and honest to ever forget. Time passed without us noticing as we flowed seamlessly from topic to topic, never once having an awkward pause or uncomfortable moment. It felt like an eternity in our own little world that we had created. And it more or less was. Because our little bubble popped when a random worker came around to inform us that they were closing and that someone needed to pay the bill (Kayla paid. She tipped 830%.). It was 11pm. We had spent nine straight hours seated at that table solely enjoying each other's company. When we walked back outside, leaving our warmth to brave the cold once more, I was bold enough to skip the handshake and properly hugged her. I waited approximately 2 minutes before asking her on a second date, to which she promptly informed me that she was already planning it. I left her there on the corner of Michigan and Madison with all the hope in my heart that this would become something so much more than just one date. It was the best and last first date of my life.